Ink Blot Test and Automaton Sex
(original poem by Anna)
I'm hardly an anarchist
A poetic nihilist
An optimistic absurdist
A bleeding heart leftist bitch
My nails are never clipped
My shoulder's a little chipped
My suburban subconscious
My inner perfectionist
You tell me to get a grip
My lip bleeds from biting back
Would I pass your ink blot test?
What dirty secrets would
you like me to confess?
It's simple mechanics, babe
You incels all want a slave
You all want automaton sex
A robot that looks good in a dress
Does that pass your inkblot test?
Roscharch come tell
me what I'm doing wrong,
is it that I'm speaking words
that aren't yes?
They'll have to reprogram
my inner voice box
They'll have to reassess
their charts
I've daggers for eyes
And a punching bag heart
So come along boy and give me a kiss
I'm a ticking time bomb
With atomic cherry red lips
Sex sells. Blood runs
You know how it is.
I'm the quietest riot
That ever lived
You want automaton sex?
You're just a puppet
hanging in the hands
Of the alt right conservatives
With their latter day plans
So go cry to mama
They are preying on your mind
Turning teenage depression
Into extremist crimes
But you ought to be tougher
Not of body but of soul
I'm sick of these excuses
'He was mentally ill'
Then deal with your problems
Take your fucking pills
There might be a girl
You really will like
But you won't ever meet her
As long as you insist every woman
Is an angel or a stonecold bitch
Does that pass your ink blot test?
Sit down with a psychologist
Figure out yourself
Before you point fingers at the world
But why would you ever take
Advice from a girl?
words from the author:
One day I was followed for a few blocks by a man shouting obscenities at me. I got away finally because I ducked into a cafe, but I had no money to buy anything. I told the waiter what was happening and they let me stay there until I felt he probably gave up.
I went home pissed off at the audacity of some men and wrote this poem. It was rough and I was angry and just fed up. Everything I had ever seen or been subjected to since I was a child came pouring out. I took abusers and their apologists words and threw them back at them. I eviscerated every dumb justification I've ever heard for the actions of predators. I shredded that piece of myself that said, "They can't help it. It is a sickness." Because, if it is a sickness, then go to therapy, figure out your issues. That is the message.
It isn't our jobs to appease their bad behavior, ever. Only to support each other always.
"I'm the quietest riot that ever lived."
You are, you are.