when the headache and the heartbreak fell out of love on the train tracks, it wasn't supposed to be part of the revolution.
and when i fought you in the snow that day, it wasn't meant to be playful.
i hated you three months too late.
and when i think of how you tried to radicalize me and all the rest of that bullshit,
i know it wasn't what you said, but what you did.
your words were never part of any revolution.
the revolution only started in my heart when i nurtured you during all those cold months
it started when my hand blindly accepted yours in tompkins square park
it started when you ignored me in public, and i realized what it meant
it started when you called me a feminazi for calling you out
the revolution came out of the other ear when you whispered closer closer
it started when i wouldn't let him fuck me because we had no condoms,
and babies were something that he "just didn't worry about anymore"
because "the revolution is the only thing to worry about"
as if i wasn't part of it.
ohh mr. lower ninth you were just so high and mighty and male
that thinking about the implications of your desires wasn't bold and brave enough
but oh, that's right
blame the victim
then victimize yourself
just fuck the crustiest girl with the tattoos and it'll be ok
oh manarchy will i always be a jane doe to you?
i've seen you test us all out, make sure we're down
i've helped you with your revolution when will you help me with mine
"but look at my bookshelf, look at all the bell hooks"
well ok that's a good start, but how about looking at me
look at me lying in your bed and i don't know how i got here and
what's burning is what's inside me
because the revolution
isn't just in the streets
it's in my heart
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