Play your music loud so you don't hear the smooches. Sometimes you miss the hellos but that is the casualty of protection
- you don't let anything in easy.
Goddesses walk all around.
Man selling shoes,
man walking dog,
man selling water for one dollar,
man with headphones:
You are gorgeous.
Oh you want me to run away with you? You want to marry me? You want to know what I feel like?
Well if they think so, how come he never does. (Or is he too close to it, losing focus?)
Is this intimacy just convenience, flower?
(You could have sworn you'd given him your invitation.)
Walk to the patio of a cafe and there are only men and the summer air piles onto your bare shoulders and they look at what you ordered and beyond you somehow, even though their gaze is directed at your surface.
Goddesses eat among other goddesses only. No one eats with their back turned.
Nothing bad ever happens in a cafe like this. (You'll never be held down.)
They only look and follow you home with their eyes.
Your face has too much character, you were told. In some photos you look wide.
But you are ready and yet never ready to do this.
You've come to ask him to grab your waist so he can know what you feel like, that you are there and tiny in certain places.
(This is what you like now.)
Flower petals on a bed, smelling tart. (They are supposed to indicate love but didn't your mother tell you that love shouldn't be indicated?)
Now the worst march together, hate still in their faces.
Don't they know they are setting fire to themselves?
I wish the yells and bulging eyes popping up in my news feed were made of wax.
(Just melt them. Re-purpose them into things we can bury in the sea.)
But all we can do is hex and pray. Hashtags aren't working. Nothing left to do but set it all on fire. These men always have dangerous leaders that talk without listening to anything but their own echoes. That invited them to speak without thinking.
(Pray. Hex.)
No surprise I was afraid of cocks in highschool.
I am still afraid of them in sweatpants,
and afraid of them for my other goddesses
- especially the ones I never grew up with.
Come quick! Did you hear me?
See the center of my universe before it blows away into a million specks of dust and subtweets.
I am inviting you.
Quick! Before I have to change my mind.
-Andrea Grassi
- you don't let anything in easy.
Goddesses walk all around.
Man selling shoes,
man walking dog,
man selling water for one dollar,
man with headphones:
You are gorgeous.
Oh you want me to run away with you? You want to marry me? You want to know what I feel like?
Well if they think so, how come he never does. (Or is he too close to it, losing focus?)
Is this intimacy just convenience, flower?
(You could have sworn you'd given him your invitation.)
Walk to the patio of a cafe and there are only men and the summer air piles onto your bare shoulders and they look at what you ordered and beyond you somehow, even though their gaze is directed at your surface.
Goddesses eat among other goddesses only. No one eats with their back turned.
Nothing bad ever happens in a cafe like this. (You'll never be held down.)
They only look and follow you home with their eyes.
Your face has too much character, you were told. In some photos you look wide.
But you are ready and yet never ready to do this.
You've come to ask him to grab your waist so he can know what you feel like, that you are there and tiny in certain places.
(This is what you like now.)
Flower petals on a bed, smelling tart. (They are supposed to indicate love but didn't your mother tell you that love shouldn't be indicated?)
Now the worst march together, hate still in their faces.
Don't they know they are setting fire to themselves?
I wish the yells and bulging eyes popping up in my news feed were made of wax.
(Just melt them. Re-purpose them into things we can bury in the sea.)
But all we can do is hex and pray. Hashtags aren't working. Nothing left to do but set it all on fire. These men always have dangerous leaders that talk without listening to anything but their own echoes. That invited them to speak without thinking.
(Pray. Hex.)
No surprise I was afraid of cocks in highschool.
I am still afraid of them in sweatpants,
and afraid of them for my other goddesses
- especially the ones I never grew up with.
Come quick! Did you hear me?
See the center of my universe before it blows away into a million specks of dust and subtweets.
I am inviting you.
Quick! Before I have to change my mind.
-Andrea Grassi
