I am:
a professional shipper 
wanting to be a stripper
loving the indie life
and killing myself slowly
but only through words.




~




Do not let him tell you that your mouth is made for kissing.
Your mouth is made for the articulate frenzy of revolution, 
For the crisp shape of kindness,
for lurching picket lines and your solitary war cry.
It is made for the brutal pucker of dreaming. 
Do not let him cradle your jaw in his audacious hands and
tell you that your mouth is anything
less than the soft and violent
devastation of water
stirring.



The next sentence you begin with "I" - 
don't you dare let it end in "love you."