on my back, legs in the air
it’s not what you think
the story of how this came to be
it’s not that i sleep, i don’t sleep
i lie, let it be
i don’t greet anything
i’m not always on my knees
i plead, it’s not what you think
they laugh when i speak
but it’s not easy when everyone-
they speed, they need
but i am not me, i’m not what they think
lick my lips, they think
it’s all metaphorical in a sense
but i don’t have senses — anymore
i’m not a whore
life was free, now they greet
i’m supposed to be, i’m supposed to be
but i don’t think anyone understands
me