The Second Act

Smells like a JC Penney shoe section. Fancy, but not quite. B+ fancy. I’m satisfied with it. For now.

I don’t think it’s an A+ life I’ve always been after. Insulated and cradled, my padded walls would be covered in trinkets and embroidery. My life would be rich in that it is pain free- I merely am and I come and go and sometimes I would cum and stay. A night. Three. A month. Slow like honey, but still – I’d slink away. Sticky residue of me in the ridges of your fingerprints is all you’re left with.

I’m sorry. I’m not.

I’m free. I’m not.

I’m happy. I’m not.

I’m alive. Am I?