She said (with a calm, soothing, monotonous voice):
" I learned how to pretend to be a woman through the mesmerising observation of the odd effeminate boy.
watching videos of David Bowie songs,
trying to mimic his un-human-like unbearable sexiness
in front of a pc
David Attenborough-style.
I learned how to pretend to be a woman through the mesmerising observation of the odd effeminate boy.
Monkeying friends' body tongues
Trying to teach my body to....
.... but how can he move his hips like that?
...
but how?
Doing the Oscar Wilde
Watching videos of skinny emoboybands acting deranged
In front of a mirror, trying to master the ways of Eddie Izzard
I have this friend. He can do the Vogue poses as effortlessly as a duck in a pond. He sits as if being photographed for a front cover of a Magazine,
in any normal situation.
I copiously acquired effeminate mannerisms simulating boys
studying the Drag Queens, the transvestites, the transexuals, the queers and the gays
look at the way he leans his head
that way his torso stands
his hands on his hips
his hands on his mouth
the way he plays his hair.
the way he walks
the way he moans
the way he cums
the way he laughs.
how does he blow his smoke
To pose or not to pose?
the dilemma of the Poser
( ǝsod oʇ sʎɐʍlɐ sᴉ ɹɐǝʍsuɐ ǝɥ┴˙ɹɐǝp 'ǝsod oʇ ǝsɹnoɔ ɟO :ɹǝʍsuɐ ǝɥʇ
ǝsod oʇ ɹǝʌǝɹoɟ puɐ sʎɐʍlɐ; )
But maybe the rain isn't really to blame
So I'll remove the cause, but not
the symptom.
Femaleborn, being a boy with a pinch of ... [?]...
It's all fun and games to pretend to be a woman.
For a little while, tho.
Not too much.
Otherwise it starts to feel like a life in the theater.
[screaming in the mic]
Je t'aime the valley OOOOOOOOH!!!"
T.N.* :
this is not a poem
they never areI don't write poems
I write texts that are somewhat more horizontally positioned than would be normal,
I'm a (fucking) writer, not a (fucking) poet.
*Twat's Note
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