To Answer Your Question Charlotte Gutzmer I am a woman in the way that my nimble fingers can dissect a clementine, licking the sweet juice that runs down my palms, and baby I am manic, I am ill, maybe you should lock me up and watch me tear into the wallpaper. I am a villain in the way that I left myself bloated and bobbing in the water tower, spinning through a musical number, standing over your body, baby, and aching to feel a little more warmth than the adrenaline in my ribcage. And I am a man, of course, not in the way that I’ll mangle myself in the ceiling fan if it means I can be the breadwinner, baby, and what is it with the economy these days, and don’t blame me if the check bounces, I work hard. But I am a man in the way I’ll tilt your chin and fall into your eyes, dumb and lovestruck as a God on Earth. I’m begging to be dismantled, baby, so tear into me like I’m fresh meat and tell me how strong I am.
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