there will always be a 'remember that time...' stuck in each conversation while catching up on long lost embarrassing moments for other people that you just so happened to spy in on and peer into. mistakenly you will never forget them.
i dont like secrets. people keep them like they are some sort of placenta. and once they are birthed. no one wants to even admit they are a woman anymore.
after that. its grisly teeth and obtruse transactions. like naked lunch somewhere soaked in the rain. all of its images leaking out. festering authors bleeding through the work.
i dont want to be hidden. if i was it would be invisible. and i would never burrow into myself so deeply that even my closest friends couldnt breath heavily without me mistaking it for a personal affront.
little pocketknife commentaries. scared witness kind of staccato sing song. this is the way we live our lifes. rolled up balls. whispering, 'dont tell anyone...'