What kind of woman hoards books and does not read them.
I’ve seen exquisite women plunder themselves into the abyss
Of insanity, women who stand at the edge of the Grand
Canyon and whisper, “I want to taste the water,”
Kicking the pebbles to a tango with gravity. What
An extreme universal force came over you. Gravity.
A victim!—to the laws of nature, of your biology
Because your sister was verbally abusive
And you would hold competitions of thinness
To prove you were worth more and beyond
Our parents expectations of you.
Of societies expectations of you—but
Here’s where you go crazy,
You made up the fucking expectations.
And still I am horrified in my own potential
To gaze over that crumbling edge
Or to suffocate
In my catacomb
Of unread books.
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