where is the man who should be pushing me down the street?

he's strong in the arms, and good on his feet.

he'll sweat and he'll swear, and- well, i wouldn't dare push his buttons when he is mad or making a poopie face.

where are you, man or boy or little child? who is going to take over my life for me now?

do you know why i was crying today? the tears were falling, all because of a mother's decision and a doctor's appointment- CANCELLED. i could die right now, alone in my arms. i could die because i can only make it to the tub to sleep and i can only make it to the clorox to drink. what happens when i am thirsty and out of these salty wet eyes? i am going to die, i am going to die. there is debt piled up way to the sky. there are family members who i think have forgotten my name, so i can't call out on them when i feel so untame. i could die. there is a pounding heart somewhere in my body, i think i dropped straight to my feet when i got the message. 'you are not meant to be ________. you can't be _____. nobody wants to _________ you. why do you _____ him? her? them? they? sheheimemyyesyouknownookay i want physical hysteria. i want an awakening. in this awakening, i will: 1. lose a thousand pounds. 2. grasp all lies and eat them like flies. 3. become perfect. and we all know there is the cliche: no such thing as perfection. but i see it in his eyes and his and in his and in hers and hers and it's this love. it's love. yes and it comes out like vultures to prey on the other and love and perfection devoure the senses. no one can see me if i am hiding like this, and he was holding me this morning- i think he wanted me to suck on his penis. it is very large and wide and my mouth was stale. i thought about it not long and i did not do it. that is when he got all sweet and told me my eyes were pretty and allalalalalal and aldjflajowfin a dslkfaldfjladkfj lakd fldfnl lk lkd lkdjfl and i couldn't didn't ahhhh didn't want to hear, because i'd rather him skip the bullshit and cram it into my ear and yell at me and beat my head on the wall and tell me that is what i am worth because the truth is so much more beautiful than those lies of me being pretty. does he think i don't see myself in the mirror? why does he or he or he or she kiss these lips? am i not fragile? am i that robot i laugh at on the scifi channel? i don't want to be this fake plastic baby bottle of abusive talk and intellect, but baby---- i just also WANT everything that all the ritual famous people want. i don't mind if i am poked at like this CONSTANTLY as long as i get my cut. and that is what dear andy wanted, and chloe and christain, and chet... and marylin... and i am famous. deal. i am a famous woman and everyone knows me. the singer girl from moldy peaches knows my name and i don't know hers. i have kissed her singing partner skinny boy before because i was drunk. so. my friend, i am famous. i sat next to billy corgan on a plane and i didn't even flinch. i am famous. when i drink coca cola, there is a theme song playing, because i am famous. there are film crews and all this bonanza because i am weak and i need it. i need supervision and love and respect because i lack all of that. i do i am empty. this writing is me killing it and it's growing back. my fame. my fame. this fame is like cancer and that is cliche so i take it back. ok. shit where are my photos? mr. leon, you understand this fame. right? you see the problem and can define the explitives? FUCK SHIT PISS!! ARE YOU HOLDING? WELL DEAR BABY, IF I WERE, THEN DO YOU THINK YOU WOULD BE ASKING? PEOPLE LIKE US ARE MADE FOR THE DRUG. THE DRUG WAS NOT MADE FOR US. the sex, the drug. the sex the sex the drug. publish me jon. publish publish. when we are famous, we will be holding.