I turned my back on Pantone color codes.
I turned my back on Manhattan.
The red and green adjustments.
The menstrual women with inflated egos.
I turned my back on myself.
This weekend, next weekend and the one after that.
I could spin myself into happiness.
I could spin myself into more trouble.
A dance that ends with what kind of man I was/am/will be.
I am designed to die.