Devilish Smirk

I cracked the code of the 4-H club for the over-50 crowd.
Abdomens and assholes on high alert.
The call is coming from inside the house.

Have you checked the children?

For 51, I feel fantastic.
Mentally. Physically.
Bloodwork? Different story.

First blood pressure.
Then cholesterol.
Now diabetes.
A ‘happy’ pill.

A whole lotta exit options.

But like I said,
I feel great.
Happy to be alive.
For now.
Exits exist.
Don’t try to reach me through my dealer.

We live in a country where dreams are field-forced.
Imagination is encouraged only if it converts.

You set forth to ignite passion.
Your aunt gently reminds you.
“Keep your crazy!”

Until your body breaks or your insurance runs out.
Or bankruptcy enters the chat.

Whatever collapses reality first!

FDT.
Forealdough.
SourDoughSwiftKickStarterStartedAlreadyPeople.

When the body interrupts, it doesn’t whisper.

"May I have your attention please! My intestines are exiting my pelvis!”

Honestly, that is the most American thing since Secret Abortions and McDonald’s Apple Pie.

Comprende

I’ve heard a version where
we pretend this is pathology.
Dancing for the story.

I suck at flirting.
An odd duck.
A queer lesson.

We call it failure.
We send it to billing.

“What if it’s just a boundary?”
“What’s the body saying?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. That pace wasn’t agreed upon.”
“Too soon?”
“Seriously?”
“Overnight fees in the dropbox after midnight!”
“Wow! What a difference!”
“Blockbuster Vid…”
You need to calm down, sir.

FrontLump Is a Medical Term Now

Immediately it felt the size of a large marble.
Poppin’ out digesting.
Air pockets.
An underskin burp.
Not a fart.

Everyone paused.

You know the sound.
The “is-that-my-body?” sound.
“Was that…what was that noise?”

Suddenly a pelvis had opinions.

My humps, my humps, my lovely…okay, focus. Lady lumps. Focus. FrontLumps. FOCUS. Bulging pelvis. HOCUS POCUS! LUMPS! fml

Is this thing on?

The body reclaims the microphone.
The mind is on improv overtime.
Too comfortable with silence.
Not waiting for a callback.

Empathy is weak. Gay sex is on the DL.

Shame lives in your pantry, not mine.

Those lies don’t float here.

The American mind game frames endurance as virtue and collapse as personal.

I’ll gladly burst those bubbles for you and you can start healing JD. Take a loveSeat.
…
Make America Give a Fuck Again, Girl!

Pla-50-CENTa

Afterbirth soup.
My tears ricochet.

Thank you. I guess.
I imagine some folks absolutely beside themselves right now. 
I love that for them.
Don't hate the player.
The only person you have to hate is yourself.

This isn’t immaturity.
This is your opportunity to grow.
Grow up and out.
It’s pressure relief.

Bodies don’t moralize.
They report.
FrontLump isn’t a diagnosis.
It’s a memo.
A note slipped under the door.

You’ve been carrying something that isn’t yours.
It’s much bigger than the marbles you lost.
DO NOT FUCK THIS UP!

So yes. FrontLump is a medical term now.

Because it’s real.
It happened.

Honestly, it sounds like lymphoma for breakfast.
Garnished with grift.

What the FLUQ just happened?
FrontLUmps Quarantined.

The surgery was successful, Mr. GayRod.
We installed kevlar mesh.

FLU-Q.
Fuck it up.
FUCK IT UP UP UP!
FUCK IT UP UP UP UP ALL THE WAY UP!

One last souvenir from this shore.
Dartboards.

Land.
Expand.
Untethered.
Unbothered.
Protect the family.

BritneySpheres
EmpressSieve
FR/ENIMA-CHINE
We’ve got the place SphereRounded!

MotherFigure & FatherF*CKER came home early.
Saliva and poppers.
Baby oil, anyone?