the insane always loved me
And so,
I always draw them out—
Insomniacs, pole dancers,
the tattooed and sub-normal.
The vixens who twirl under a full moon.
The unwanted. The unloved. The hooligans
hidden by a pretty face, who collect their blood
in jars and vases and carry
a nice pair of tits.
They orbit me.
Women with glossy eyes,
Women with speech defects,
Women with scars under their wrists,
Women with purple hair and moon rings,
with strange twitches, the goddesses,
and witches who get on on their
knees, stick out their
tongue but only
for Jesus.
The Exhibitionists. The Hookers.
The Vegans. The Gypsies.
The 51/50.
Hippies.
Thieves.
Addicts.
Rejected.
Orphaned.
Abandoned.
Christians.
Muslims.
And women
who love to meow like
kittens and hiss like serpents.
I light a cigar, go for a stroll,
Or hop on the motorcycle
and they all bark —
“How ya doin’ handsome?”
“Hey how ya doin?”
“Wanna read some tarot?"
“Wanna skip some rope?”
Next thing you know we’re in an alley,
or some cheap hotel - naked, blissful,
half drunk, yet somehow still alive.
I buckle my pants and head downtown,
when an alley cat jumps off a balcony
and lands at my feet. She spits out a fish,
then grins at me.
She’s my new one.
In my own experience, connecting with people who exist outside mainstream norms has been a profound journey. The women described here—those with glossy eyes, speech differences, scars, unique hairstyles, and rich inner lives—remind me of the beauty in embracing imperfection and complexity. Their stories foster empathy and challenge society's tendency to label or exclude. I've always been drawn to the ‘insane,’ the misunderstood, the ones whose quirks and raw authenticity make them shine brighter. These are the women dancing under moonlight, the ones collecting memories and blood alike, embodying both fragility and strength. They might be misunderstood as ‘hooligans’ or ‘exhibitionists,’ but beneath the surface lies resilience and deep capacity for love. Through shared moments—whether in fleeting encounters or deeper bonds—there's a sense of finding family among strangers. Whether lighting a cigar, strolling downtown, or riding motorcycles, these women communicate a language beyond words, one charged with life’s unfiltered emotions. This poetry captures the spectrum of human experience: the abandoned, rejected, the addicts, the spiritual, the fierce protectors of their own narratives. Embracing those who meow like kittens or hiss like serpents is about honoring authenticity in all its forms. Such reflections deepen our understanding that love and connection often bloom strongest at society’s margins, where the unconventional become our closest companions and muses. This piece invites readers to celebrate diversity, challenge prejudice, and cherish the raw, untamed spirit that these ‘insane’ women embody.
