Jenny Lindsay | Rappers v Poets

Yo Yo YO
What up?? Give it up! What’s happening people? Since six, it imprints in skin. This ‘girl’ script. This birth-right, which kills spirit. Whilst timid lips twitch, ‘shh, girls; swirl
mildly within this!” ‘I’s itch in this skin; in this script. Misfits spit: “kill this!” Whip nit-wits stingingly with livid rifts! This script stinks! It is shirt lifts, it is skirt shims with
impish grins! It’s slits pink, bikini tits, It is pricks
infringing with victim scripts! It is in birth ‘til infirm; this script,
this ‘girlish’ mimicry. Grim risk, if girls wish trim bits within
knicks; if thigh-ripping “thick-skins” in big biff shirts; if bits binding within rigid,
distinct, ticks in identifying with scriptish wish lists is INSPIRING?? Pfft! It binds ‘I’ within slim-picking, piddling
limits!” Misfits flick digits, indignity fizzing,
sighs rising. Cuz,
‘I, girl’ – is it implicit? Is it I.D.? This insipid script, is it simply right? Writ in birth, identity: ‘cis’? Is this misprint? Kick it! Stick it in bins brimming with skin flicks. High-five other ‘I’s, let a collective “I” light up within winning shin-kickings! Bitches, reclaim this script – be singing: “One is not born, one becomes women” Oops!
Off script… Cuz it’s illicit thinking – skirting kinship with siblings, whilst hissing indignity within ‘isms’ splits I.D. from ‘I’s; Schisms rip Twit’ring vigils – timid girls flit, sighing “Skirmish? Irk. Pitching in is visibility, crisis rid! Shhhhhh…..” Shhhhhh Kick it This script is I-ridden. ‘I’ is limiting. ‘I’ is limiting ‘I’ is I, first; tight-knit wiring gives wind-chill. We are not this script. Though we act it well, and with vim… ‘I’ stands still, individual, while a collective head wricks necks to listen. Thanks

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