hooray i’m decomposing. but i feel like glamour. i’m wearing a red dress and rotting on the inside. i like to walk around and think about taking a knife to my flesh, slicing off deli plate pieces, pass them off to nibbling party goers. i would never tell you that, i think, and put a drumstick on a paper plate for my friend.
we drink other people’s wine all night and dance in professorial living rooms to pop punk on a smart phone in a fruit bowl. i read poetry on the floor and you record it so seriously and the cat of the house sits with me so i pet the cat and old men leer.
we leave and keep drinking. the night is cold and fresh and my lungs ache with possibility. i can’t keep track of any thing. i am sneaking snacks at the bar and getting free drinks from men who have had enough and i am sad but only my friend knows. i go outside to smoke and lay on the sidewalk and i always feel like a movie star it doesn’t matter where i am especially when i like what i’m wearing and i like what i’m wearing. my friend takes pictures and you call but then find me on the sidewalk. it’s time to go home.
lol i never get what i want.
i’m sitting with my friend at this place listening to ska music and drinking cocktails with fresh berries. i say, i want to hear guns and roses, and i post on twitter that i want to listen to guns and roses and make out with you (3 retweets, 5 favorites) and then send you a screenshot of it and you say lol i’m melting and as she and i are walking out they play sweet child o mine.
next we’re walking down the street and she’s playing a video on youtube of november rain with the lyrics on the screen and we’re singing together, harmonizing, though i’m mostly letting her do the verses and coming in for the oh yeahs. i text to tell you that i’m walking down the street and singing november rain with my friend and you text me i love your life and i text you lol.
i want to be a movie star. mostly so i can have cool hairdos. like i really wish right now i had my hair in a fancy updo, like a big bouffant. every one in union square is already looking at us. i already feel like a movie star except i can’t afford la perla lingere.
i’m not sure if i want to be any thing as much as i want to feel like some thing. to feel like i exist. do you know what i mean.