Sin and Sensitivity

Tonight I want to swing from a chandelier like Sia donning a blonde bob and a nude body suit. It’s an eclectic mix that only works after midnight.

I prefer sinning over sensitivity.

Sensitivity training is corporate speak for making workers more tolerable. I missed that class. And aspiring to work for corporations test my gag relax like a hard cock in the parking lot.

But I’ve never been that sensitive. And I’m not that innocent–even after a Britney binge, dancing sluggishly and lip syncing off key. My dirty Vegas mirage is like a gay marriage made in heaven. How fitting for a queen with a martini and glittery outfit?

Allies and adversaries surrounded me like air. Knowing who to trust or love is a losing game. But instead, I’ll trickle through like Basketball Wives, in designer duds and a lace front. A superficial shell won’t steer the course of my history.

My life is greater than photo shoots and sample sales. Although those things do sound glamorous with flashing lights and cameras.

But I’ll rather be in a room of one’s own perfecting words and scenes.

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