Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “July, 2017”

Neon Signs

I wander

from one room to another

and back again

looking for you as if you were actually ever here

But it’s just my heart

longing for something which life

has decided I don’t deserve

When I was born

the universe whispered and said

“You will know heartache and longing and disloyalty because you are a truth teller and are born to lose”

So I wear this pre-destination

like a scarlet letter

or an old motel sign

neon lighting the way for every





to find their way to my doorstep

and desperate to sate my loneliness

I open the door and let them in

I lay down with dogs

and rise up with leprosy

because foolishly I’ve always thought

the love of a good woman

could fix a man

But I’m the one who has been broken by them

and no man ever knocks on the door

offering his love to heal me


You said
“God doesn’t make garbage”
as if somehow forgetting the murderers and child rapists
and also the fact I don’t believe in your god

But you wouldn’t know that
because you haven’t really known me since 1987
when I was still giving men my body
in the hopes they would love my soul
and now no man wants my body because it was used by too many
men who came before them

And you married your high school sweetheart
while my husband was fucking one of my best friends from high school
and your parents just celebrated 50 years of marriage
and I can still remember the sick feeling I got in my stomach when my mom told me she was divorcing my dad

So do me a favor and save your platitudes and pep talks
for someone who actually believes you give a shit about them
because I’m sick to fucking death of people pretending like they care
only when it suits them and when the world is watching

Cicada Exuviae

you have chosen to withhold the light
and darkness has descended

I feel hollow
like a cicada exuviae
with paper thin skin
which might disintegrate if touched by humans

I imagined I had something to offer you
but you easily saw I am a husk
and the more vibrant part of me
has left for destinations unknown

Saints and Sinners

The church bells ring on Sunday morning

reminding you of sins committed on Saturday night

You like to pretend you’re a good Catholic boy

so you wash the memory of me away with holy water

I don’t believe in fairytale gods or threats of perdition

but I also cleanse what we do with cheap wine

When we’re touching each other our worlds blend

and we no longer know or care who’s sinner or saint 

We only know we’ve found some other sort of religion

in each other

Black Sleep

I wash the handful of pills down with some boxed wine
because I’m not fancy
and even if I was
I’m past the point of caring
because everyone else is past the point of caring about me
It’s all become too much
the loneliness
the pain
the memories
I’m determined to finish what I started at the age of 14
when my mother’s medicine cabinet didn’t wield the proper combination of the black sleep I was seeking
I can count on a few fingers the number of people who will miss me
everyone else will just find me pathetic
as pathetic as they found me in life
but still be surprised that I ended it all
because I always seemed so strong
But those same people will pretend to care
after I am ashes
because they think it’s the proper thing to do
if they really cared they would have shown it
in life
and not just in death

Constant Fools

The lonely rises
like bile into the back of my throat
I’ve got a belly full of your lies
and they give me heartburn

“Deceit doesn’t become you,” I say,
“It’s like a suit that’s too short in the sleeves and too tight across the shoulders.”

But you keep trying it on
thinking one day that the more bullshit you drop
and I pick up
the better it will fit

I’m a fool
a constant one
not just an intermittent one

I imagine I’m the one who brought
your duplicity
to my door

So what else is there to do when
I’m to blame for believing
but put a red carnation in your lapel
kiss your cheek
and wish you well
then vomit your bullshit
all over your wingtips

In Plain Sight

I’ve tucked my heart away for safekeeping

–in the hall closet behind broken umbrellas and a never used croquet set

–in the basement behind old Christmas decorations and dried up cans of paint

–in the garage on a hook with a spare inner tube for a bike tire and a hose that has a leak in it

–in the car in the glove compartment under napkins from fast food places and receipts for oil changes

–in the bottom of my purse where it’s covered with Kleenex fibers and an old Tic-Tac

–in plain sight, because no one is looking for it anyway

Architect of Angst

Love softens

the sharp edges

and eliminates

the lines

Who am I

if not this creature

delineated by heartbreak

architectured of angst

built by brokenness

So I push away

all affection

and caring

because they make me



unrecognizable to myself

because for so long

I have been

angles and points

a geometry problem

no one wants to solve

Ghost Lips


I say to you

I want you in my bed

and not just in my head

But you exist in another dimension

just beyond my grasp

you have your own life

of which I’m not really part of

and you’re merely a visitor in mine


and ghost lips

musical notes

and phantom fingers

connect us

converging in some otherworldly realm

only you and I know

between our realities

Watery Graves

You’ve realized

I’m a sinking ship

and I can feel you bailing

All the treasures

I once held

were plundered

by men

by time

long before I met you

My hull is empty


of what it takes

to sustain oneself on stormy seas

Water rushes in through the breach

so I take one last breath of you

as you row away

in the only lifeboat

I am left

to fend for myself


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