Being on Your Period and Being a Hoe

After he did that shit to my body, or Hes (plural) I am kind of wondering how to go about living in it now since I am unsure who owns it… me or him? or Him? or Them. 

So I choose like no other. I choose and I choose. I choose to choose. When I could not choose to be vulnerable I now choose to be vulnerable. When I did not choose to cry now I choose to cry. When I did not choose to be drugged I choose to do drugs. When I did not choose to have him invade my pussy I now demand for men to invade my pussies.

Rape me, I tell them. Rape me rape me. 

And one of them says He don’t like that word while another says, Ok I can do that for you when you wanna.

And I like it bc I have options. Options options.

Options options because my existence is not one (well it is), bc they told me so from the suicide prevention programs that are annoying af and do not care if you call them at 2:30 in the AM about wanting to jump off of bridges.

Hmm, they say. Have you tried __, __, and ___? They said and I am like I have been seeing a therapist for six years bitch I am not really sure what you are talking about. 

Even in New York City the land of the wild and free they do not really want that type of thing at their elitist feminist schools. 

Please do not come back, they say, and I suppose I am more like Sylvia Plath than I realize. Kick me out of your program because I spent the night in the hospital, so sorry your students are so brilliant in the true genius kind. 

FUck me fuck me, I want to scream. Fuck me on the stage I want to perform. Even wearing this underwear is not enough. At the very least I am still eco -friendly and do not waste excessive cotton and adhesives in the trash. 


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