My time is not meant for those who pretend to know me because they have seen an untanned patch of my skin
Do not etch me into your wooden bedpost as another tamed pussy
Titles are not awarded for time served
and cunts licked in fits of feverish lust
Not your girlfriend barely a friend
Do you even remember why I was crying last august?
I was so angry that day
When the sun hits
She pillages tools from the toolbox
Only herself to fix
When the moon sits
Her ocular mislay the bones buried beneath chest
Matters not where she is
She's left to claw a dresser with folded oaths
Inflating lungs, forging trust, to lift two toes
The capsules burglarize her gas-tanks war
Stifling her endlessly to the end of the tour
Thanks for taking care of me when I got too drunk and was alone and for making sure nobody took advantage of me.
Thanks for letting me pass out in ur bed watching American dad.
Thanks for giving me some of your things to remember you by.
Thanks for all the late night shitty life talks. Thanks for being brutally honest.
You were very straightforward it was kind of offputting at first but then I learned to love it. You always said you didn’t care about anyone but a few people. And I’m pretty sure you never thought about me once. Ash and Chris was about all that was on that list. But you meant a lot to me.
And thanks for being welcoming to me when i was lovely and lonely.
Thanks for so much.
Telling me that life is shit but there’s some good in some of it. Thank you.
I don’t face my problems.
I put them in a box, lock it, and throw away the key
This is just the way life works
We’ve all got to throw way our boxes
In order to make room for more
Because in this world, baby
The problems never end
Sometimes people just run out of room
And what happens when you run out of room?
Society runs out of room for you
In '85 I modelled my hair on Bono
YouTube "U2 Live Aid"
that was my look of choice
my credibility never made the grade
I worked in a rough ass warehouse
with men twice my age
my teenage angst and obstreperousness
regularly put them in a rage
One day I was wrapped in tape
bound up like an Egyptian mummy
thrown in an industrial waste bin
calling me a mullet head and dummy
Spun around and around
then left out on a road
my shouts for help unanswered
my temper set to explode
A passing engineer heard my wailing
and took pity on my plight
seeing me inside the rubbish
gave him a terrible fright
I was tipped out to the pavement
and freed from my imprisonment
I needed taking down a peg or two
but felt I was totally innocent
Today you would call it bullying
back then they said it was horseplay
I never forgot my mummified condition
I learned my lesson the hard way
The saddest sight I viewed on Monday
a homeless man lying across the middle of the pavement
passers by stepping over him regardless
his position suggested he was making a statement
The saddest sight I viewed on Tuesday
a homeless man frantically searching a waste bin
a look of desperation etched across his features
his frail frame desperately thin
The saddest sight I viewed on Wednesday
2 homeless men under the Mancunian Way
a forlorn shelter from the wind and rain
as passing traffic covered them in spray
The saddest sight I viewed on Thursday
was homeless people every 50 yards
a generation of students passing by their plight
many accruing debt with few safeguards
The saddest sight I viewed on Friday
a homeless woman weakly asking for change
a legion of folk living below the poverty line
I plead that something has to give or change
The country I live in is one of the richest in Europe.
some secrets are darker than others
a dirty black monster sleeps under my covers
and swims in my blood
I would tell you, show you
but I'm bound and gagged
simply all tied up
Who knew this sweet and innocent
plain jane doted on such pleasurable
a terrible violation
unforgivable or exceptional
whose sensation is satisfied?
hunger in my throat - fear in my gut - guilt in my chest
because the cold word stirs a warms ocean
Am I a victim?
Are these confidential leather wonderments
just self-harming punishments?
The breeding ground for
the worst kind of men?
there is no excuse for them
yet I invite the abuse in
How can I be free if he owns me?
How can I love when hate drives my sex?
How can I ask him to play a game so violent?
nothing is as intimate
as to let
your partner get to have all of you
with your permission
nothing is as empowering
when you make the rules
to rOck and rOll your body
physical love expressed in the shadows of
vanilla sure is sweet
my body craves the licorice whip
sweet stinging slap as sharp as my breath
slow lingering loss of air makes
I'm heavy and fingertips pulsing
your hand ripples across my skin like the sun
Be my God tonight.
1. My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I’m half convinced she put a spell on it or had it blessed to make me feel more beautiful. The way it reflects the light puts green specks in my eyes and a rosy sheen on my cheeks. It makes my hair look softer, my edges smoother. It takes away those fifteen stubborn pounds. I think, maybe, it just reflects my mother’s love.
2. Red headed boys have it out for me. I have had my heart broken five times and four of those were by red headed boys. Damn you, Ronald Weasley for igniting such an infatuation-no, obsession-at such a young age. It seems that no matter how badly the fire burns, I always seek out another flame.
3. The people who pass on before us are allowed to paint the sky when they feel like it is needed. Part of your welcome to heaven package is a paint brush. My papaw frequently sends me glorious sunsets and starry nights when he knows I’m feeling sad.
4. The first time a rough boy put his hands on me, he didn’t do so in a mean way. We were young and he pretended to know what he was doing/pretended that it wasn’t wrong. The second time, he realized he now had control over me. Though I was never forced, I was manipulated. I do not cry rape, but I still cry.
5. Growing up Catholic taught me that sex before marriage is wrong. What if part of me thinks sex in general is wrong? What if I can’t take the sex without imaging the unwanted hands all over me? What if my mistakes have made me into an unlovable monster? What if I am too weak to say no to sex and too weak to say yes to love? What if I can fall in love or fall in sex, but never both?
6. My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I know it is because I see my reflection the way my mother sees me: beautiful, strong, unbroken.
The whip kissed her skin like the lover of her dreams
Porcelain skin left red from the touch
A lovelier beauty no one has ever seen
So innocent, yet likes it so rough
Cold steel around her wrist, pull her back to give her neck a kiss
I will guide her, and show her the way
Wither it be with my palm or with my fist