Who would have thought,
I would be the kinda girl to sit
in front of the post office in Huntington Beach
listening to Allegro, Concerto No. 6 in B-Flat Major.
Oh the Academy of Ancient Music. Richard Egarr! Bach!
And turning it up, up so loud,
it’s like candy,
It’s turning my brain into jazz.
Like coming out of slavery,
I’m sitting right here rockin’ out,
like it were Bon Iver or Patrick Doyle
It’s the sweetest procrastination
you will ever have,
here, right outside the post office
in the middle of a sunny day.
How did I get here, you ask?
Well, first of all,
let’s just say Hatred and Envy and Sabotage
Didn’t break me nor kill me,
They just made my poetry stronger.
Yes, in a way, they killed me,
but I was reborn.
Like Viktor Frankl and Ingrid Magnussen,
I write on wallpaper and stick it
into the cracks of walls,
I polish the enemies’ stones like champagne,
cold and crisp without any sweetness
in the final freedoms of my mind.
I will not stop writing,
and I will fight to live.
You will continue to hate me,
but you will not have me.