Oh Mary!

>> Note: this piece, like all of my pieces, is a work of fiction.

I have scoliosis because I get horny when I sit upright.

Luckily I’m hyper mobile and my spine bends to every male delight.

Humans are animals,and we can smell someone in heat.

We don’t talk about it, it’s not what we do.

It’s not proper, it’s not natural, it’s not a very neat.

The taste of sex is tangy, metallic, next to blood.

It’s nice though, a nod to that one Jew.

Who was he again, and why do we drink his blood?

We don’t stop being animals, just because everyone who remembers us is dead.

Horniness isn’t something that only happens in bed.

The movies say we might be aliens, I say we might be dead.

My doctor says Im making this all up in my head.

My doctor is a figment, a memory, from long ago.

A memory from when I was younger, and still had a mother and plenty of others who wanted to see me grow.

You don’t appreciate them while they’re there, and then they’re gone.

But then so are you.

My friends are full of carbon and dioxide 2.

But I am just monoxide.

Even though I feel silent and helpless 2.

I try to be nice, but I think my smell might kill them.

So I keep them far from me, hiding me

I know I would be a threat to their sense of normalcy.

I survive off of judgement, off hatred, and off strife.

Men on the Internet tell me that I would not make a very good wife.

Their comments cut easy, and without a knife.

I stab them with a fork and dip them in siracha to dull the bite.

Cardboard cutter on the table, cut into pieces with a big knife.

Pretty Little Liars was the prototype — it’s not my fault I like getting chased at night.

And I end up wanting to fight every man I like.

Adultery is an option, but femicide is a choice.

If you knew me when I was 7 you may have thought I didn’t have a choice.

But your horniness has a price — Isn’t that nice?

Please don’t be surprised that your little pet is trying to cut your head off at night.

An angry young woman, forever full of spite.

God bless the man who takes on the job of loving her with all his might.

A woman like me deserves to be loved tight, Iike the others, and then a little tighter still.

Oh yes, oh yes, Daddy please call me crazy!

The cops who are always showing up never treat me Iike a lady.

Oh why, oh why, did my father not raise me.

It’s his fault I don’t behave like a lady. That I don’t want a baby.

That I enjoy men telling me that I’m crazy.

There is no system without pushback

There is no system without pushback.

There is no system without pushback.

Jesus died on a cross.

There is no system without pushback.

There is no system without pushback

And they wanted to let his body rot.

There is no system without pushback.

But systems are stupid and those Roman men couldn’t even tell death from shock.

Jesus rose from the dead? Honey he was alive the whole time.

Brough to you by the

There is no system without pushback.

Even if the system is an erect cock.

Even if the only way to take it down is with a quick chop.

We cannot control the outcome, but we can control our actions.

Wouldn’t it be an honor to laugh instead of die?

To fuck instead of cry?

To work every single fucking day until you die?

Until you die?

Until you die?

Until you die?

And then you’ll sigh. “Oh my, look at the time!”

You’ll find that it’s already your time to die.

Huh? You’re asking me WHY?

Oh, you’re asking me WHAT, what I did with my time?

Well, I was a level 12 blonde. And that was it for me!