I can only stand poets
and artists
and those who choose to be my muse
I only like punk band musicians
angry feminists
and men with great hair, to use

I admire, only, those who speak in metaphors
who journal and protest and listen to the doors

I don't give a **** about models
or actors or politicians,
weeds lining their inner cheek
dandelions spat, everytime they speak

but most of all
I can't stand your mother
the way she holds me captive in her box
"sit still porcelain doll"
she says as she smothers
as I try to become the fir, the froth, the rocks