This is where I escape the hers and the shes, the lies and the lust. This is where I go to get away from my own morbid reality of hysteria and confusion. So when u see me dancing in the mirror ogling myself, it’s not via conceit or arrogance or annoyance at watching you have all the fun sweating away to the new bullshit labeled music. It’s me imagining I’m someplace warmer, brighter, quieter, or just other than here.
The mirror is my escape from everything and everyone.
The swivel of my hips become the hypnotizing ride to Noplace Land, where I rule on high and you simple plebeians cower in my shadow (or perhaps we laugh and rejoice together. Depends on my mood). Where the hers aren’t jealous of the shes and the lies make the lust that much sweatier.
When you see me tilt my head just so I can look at my own ass jiggle, it’s not because I’m vain or cocky or because you can’t shake yours like me. It’s me imagining that those waves are gonna wash over my face at any moment and rinse away my makeup. And the salt stinging the corners of my eyes aren’t from beads of sweat but from years of pure water smashing into rocks, creating the perfect mix for a gentle emollient.
Yes, when you see me in the club sweetie just know that I’m not there to steal your girl or make you hate me or to hate on you or to dance for an audience or to meet new hers or to entice all the shes. I’m there on vacation from my home in Le Shamblesville and I’d appreciate it if you gave me fifty feet.
And yes bitch.
I will measure it.
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