I’m the emperors new designer

I prefer to have my skin, not my soul
revealed

I don’t want you for christmass

I’m eager to please, I just don’t want you to be at ease

I think I will grow old with dignity – I can’t afford to by a convertible

I don’t love you but see if you can prove me wrong

I’ve lost my voice.

I can only make myself heard with the tongue and the vocal chords.

I’ve lost my touch

I can now only feel, and be touched,

with hands and the nerves of the skin.

I dance to everyone’s revolution

I’m a good girl in drag, pretending to be a bitch

I want to be your afterwork beer and your monday morning coffee

I want to be your asymmetric haircut

I want to be the missing link – the 404 of mankind.

I wish I knew if I was a riot girrl or a womyn

I bleached my hair to have more fun. It didn’t work.

I’ve been looking for a golden idol
but google keeps asking me if I meant American Idol..

I work hard to master the art of doing nothing

I want you to know this is not a journal

I always try to fake it. I ever go as far as being honest

I don’t believe in Mona Lisa.
It’s just a story you tell small children about art.