Sugar toupée.

I’m pretty. OK. I’m nice. True. I’ll listen. And answer. And maybe I’ll put your dick in my mouth. If you pay for drinks. And tell me I’m pretty. And respond to my provocative and desperate texts. I’m a mess. and mislead. I believe what I want. And believe what I don’t see. I’m free to be ignorant and shallow and what I want to be.
Free to decide if this is OK. or right. or second best. or meaningless. or impulsive. and stupid. and let’s forget it even happened. It didn’t. it’s all. cotton candy. constructed and molded in a hot metal bowl. A sugar toupée that can be forgotten because it’s sweet. and pink. and blue. a sugary goo when it hits your tongue. when you commit to the plastic ridiculousness of webbed hair on a stick. edible. forgettable.

Written Sunday, November 4th, 2012 @ Smith.


Photo taken Thursday, April 15th, 201o, in the U District, Seattle, WA.

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