WARNING: SREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS

My bed is covered in shit.
Not shit. Trash.
Not trash. Litter.
I despise those who litter more than
all of those who litter
because I know we all do it.

I spent hours shifting through the wilderness
just to bring out six bags of your litter.
How dare you steal my child wilderness
with your bottles shattered and
downstreamed plastics.

I despise you for throwing your
cigarette on the ground and
what the fuck goes through your head
that makes you think you can just leave your
Starbucks mug on the pavement?
This is human laziness at its most distasteful exhibition.
Fucking humans.
If we have the means to create the waste then
why can't we take the responsibility to clean it up?

He said "Damn democrats, suing everyone for everything."
I scream, 'Damn republicans, not taking responsibility for ANYTHING!'
not out loud but the reverberations
echoed from ear to ear throughout my hallowed skull.
Because I am just a pretty blonde without the possibility of
a thought underneath her golden strands and hazel eyes.
I started to twirl my tresses just because you called me a dumb blonde.
What the fuck, who acts that way?
You were supposed to be my best friend.
You did it to your sister too,
like we could help our heritage any more than you?

And what about the fishes and the lead sinkers and the fork on the bottom of the lake?
And you think I can't lift anything just because I am female.
I will prove to you my strength with all the power held
deep within my narrow limbs.
Spiteful this child shows you she is stronger than she looks.

I AM STRONGER THAN I LOOK DAMNIT!
I can take the hits!
You have no idea what I can take.
Don't short change me my share of trouble!
I can handle it, I promise you.
Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot carry.
Don't you think I can test those waters myself?

I am so tired of you telling me what I can and cannot do.

Just because you are a woman,
and you can't bear the weight,
means nothing to what I can bear.

This stream is flowing out of control now,
the waters crashing faster until
the shores and the dams and the freeway tresses
can no longer hold the gushing layers of icy flowing rant.

Here comes the flood Victoria because that is what we will call you.

Why can't I turn off my mind?
Do I really think any soul will read this?
Just because I write it?
I often find myself far too arrogant.
This is the first stream of consciousness I have attempted
straight to type,
bypassing the pen and ink and papertrees.

I find it an inexact science incorrect and improbable
because my fingers like to auto-correct and
then they patiently pause for the right thought/word/symbol/letter/vowel/pigeon!

Just three more days and I am coming home boys.
Just four more days and I am coming home boys.
Thursday. And now I sit tweedle thumbed
pretty sitting always waiting
for Thursday.