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She wears fishnets and doesn't care about fire. Why should she? She doesn't like to be bothered. Her mood ring is always stuck on orange except for when she walks back home from a party. The stars look like faces, sometimes. An entire history up there. She knows everything that has ever happened. Then, her ring shifts to pink. Like blood in the water. Like gum she steals from the pharmacy. She is a body of impulses. Her mother wants her to eat more. Pushes peas and bread. Says, "oh, honey" like a prayer. Her father wants to tuck her in but instead, says nothing but goodnight. She runs away from home every summer. The air stinks of animal meat. The water sizzles. She always comes home, eyes wide as bacteria. Then, she goes to sleep. And she has the same dream. The one where she creates everything and she is holy. She wakes up feeling the absence of wings. God Is A Teenage Girl, Americansport on Tumblr.
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