Danez Smith
I typed a description of myself on Web MD, told me by my symptoms I either had the blues or I was a hoe. I guess both are true. What's a slut if not sad? I am lonely even when filled to the brim with some guy who I think is named Robert. Who knows. He's behind me, hacking away at my body like a sous-chef gone mad or maybe just like he doesn't know my name, I'm on all fours on my phone taking quizzes on Buzzfeed to tell me what X-Men character I am & what Sex In The City Character I would totally be BFF's with. If you must know, Wolverine (the one who can't control himself) & Samantha (the one with the mouth shaped like mine (you know, open)). When he's done, he leaves. I wish there was a way to complicate that, but isn't it simple? Isn't this our most ancient & practiced ritual? Haven't men been meeting to be lonely together for years? Is me playing on my phone any worse than some two men laid up in a field of tobacco, one reduced to grunt & thrust, one staring up at the sky making stories out of clouds? Give him his blue heaven littered with doves to keep him while some man dances a brute waltz within him, just leave me my twitter so I can live tweet this mediocre Moulin Rouge #hedoesntlooklikehispics #seveninchesmyass #wheresthebeef #couldagonegroceryshopping #IwonderwhatBeyonceisdoingrightnow #nothingbettertodothancountthestars #allthestarsarelonely #moststarsaredead