I don't speak much about my nipples rings.
I rarely say it at all.
My nipples are pierced.
When I turned 18 they were all I knew I wanted
Since then I have gotten 6 tattoos
All that I believe in
As images that did not push
And insist
Themselves into my skin
But
Snapshots of my story
And the part of myself
That is deepest inside of me
Pictures that traveled all the way from the center of me
And then burned themselves onto me
From the inside out.
But those came later
With thought
The nipple rings
Came first
With feeling
Because a body that has chosen
To pierce a hole
And accept
And grow with
A choice to add a twinkle
Of metal
To catch the sunlight
That body
Has lost its chance
With time
To illicit the same reactions
Of bewilderment
Causing housewives to clutch
Their pearl necklaces
That it has had
In the past
And yet a simple studded earing
With a simple little diamond
Not even a giant gapping hole
In the ear of a teenager you know
Will live to regret it later
Is ever the same in substance
Because unlike the
Nipple ring
Another modern pierce will
Not
Turn
You
On
as a concept, alone.
And then make you shake your head
Because you didn't choose that thought.
Because that thought does not fit with the current
Immediate
Moment
I am tanning at the suburban neighborhood pool
I am changing, backstage
I am mowing my lawn
And that moment
That creates a feeling
You have no choice
But to shake away
Is the essence
Of every bit
Of my performances
No matter how
They are performed
I'll say that its attention
That I need
If that makes it livable
For others
But I will always know
That I need
More than just the stage
I need a crowd
That is gasping.
