Self-indulgent Misery Watch as I spill Tumble over and crash With no self-will I fear I turn into mash Desperate wails No courage to heard rip out my nails I want my vision blurred My viscera on the earth I'm getting intimate with Gaia No need for rebirth Not one for the messiah Let her take my rage Cradle me in the ferns Take me off this stage It's what my heart yearns.

I move in slow to move out quick Guessing rhymes Striking licks Your gaze a grasp The air is thick Leave your longing on my lips Return nights whisper Your lashes fall If I could write Poetry At all You’d know my meaning You’d feel the call

Unfinished poem I’m working on Nature quiet pictures Choir chords sing “nature” Nature, nature. There is nothing natural about {this} I’m all bark and no tits Desolate bitches spit cud out These things have shaped me I’m diseased, I’m erratic, eradicate me I’m diseased, I’m erratic, I’m eradicated. No, nature knows women, and women don’t know me, They see the mockery of their parts. They self-pathologize as I fall apart. Am I a woman? Am I a woman? Am I a girl at the end? This vaginal vixen is virginally complicated! Complete competition, complicity combs genocide. Complete competition, I am born on the wrong side of war, Of war, of war, of war. I am dead on the wrong side of war. As a woman, as a woman. Am I woman? Am I a woman? This virginal vision is vaginoplastically created.