Rebelle Society

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Darling. {poetry}

I swallow the rest of my wine, and slide the lip-stained glass to the bartender I lean over and touch her arm as my matte black nails drag softly over her skin She turns her attention away from the poor sap who never stood a chance

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Darling, Don’t Be The Good Girl.

And I’ve kept my mouth shut. I’ve delicately arranged the duct tape over my own lips. Do-it-yourself oppression. Bring-your-own degradation. I’ve stood in the path of hurricanes — tied my own hands to the tracks. It’s just the way things are done, darling. It’s just the silence we all  ...

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