Cutting

Shoes and snood; leather panel leggings from JCP; cardi and gloves from UO; bag from an art fair.

The cold wind cut my ankles today.
Maybe it's just a bogus idea, this notion that I can do for myself and submit to my demands alone...
"I don't wanna," that's my mantra now.
And to that, there is only cold wind. Cutting.
Reaching for something that I don't even know is there...feeling cold wind cut my fingers.

I'm trying not to mind, I'm trying not to mind, I'm trying...
I'm actually trying.

Still a prospect of nothing at all because nothing has ever come of anything.

I'm not an actress.
I'm not a magician.
I'm not a liar.

So the heat of my own conscience helps with the wind.
Because now I'm standing in it...and my ankles are numb.