It was a cold, wintry December day.
I was at home,
sitting by the fire.
The fire was hot,
but from where I sat,
it felt like a warm blanket.
my nipples started to lactate,
I did not know what was going on.
I lifted up my soaking wet shirt,
and put my hands over my nipples,
in an attempt to stop the lactating,
up it did not work.
I squeezed my nipples,
to see if they would lactate,
but nothing happened.
I went to bed,
hoping this nightmare would be over in the morning.
But it wasn't.
When I woke up,
I went into the bathroom to perform my daily morning activities,
when I realized something on my chest.
A third nipple!
I tried to rip it off,
but I couldn't.
Later that day,
I was eating a juicy, tender steak,
all three of my nipples began to lactate!
I tried to stop them,
for they were lactating all over my steak.
Then, like before,
This proceeded for many days.
I woke up with another nipple,
and everyday around six o'clock,
they would all lactate,
until one day,
the unthinkable happened.
I woke up.
I could not move.
I had no legs.
I was a giant nipple.
"NO!" I screamed.
I began to lactate,
and then I exploded.
I have a third nipple.
That doesn't mean I'm cripple.
It's on the left side.
Some people think its weird like Jekyll and Hyde.
But there really actually wrong.
Because my nipple just makes me a lot more strong.
People either love it or they hate it.
Either way they wish they had one and usually throw a fit.
The rose is considered the flower of love, right?
Most people don't understand exactly why, though.
Neither do I.
So I'll call it the flower of you.
That is all that comes to mind when I see a rose.
All of your beauty.
The roots are what you have imbedded and planted inside of me.
The thought of you.
Forever engraved into my mind.
The stem is your body.
So tall; thin, and strong.
Built to match perfectly along with what it's supporting and holding.
But say the rose isn't properly cared for, or it gives up.
Its stem will begin to slouch.
Its being will become weak.
But I'll always be there to tie the delicate stem to a small, wooden support stake.
The petals are your hair.
What catches and captivates anybody's attention for the first time.
As it did mine.
But even as a rose's petals begin to fall, it's still full of beauty.
Whether the petals are shed by choice, or they fall far too soon and unexpected.
The rose is still whole.
And my love will remain.
The small, green leafs just below the petals are called sepals.
Those would be your eyes.
Sadly not getting as much attention as the petals, but secretly still beautiful.
Making the rose what it is.
Some might look past them.
But I don't.
I see them put together and combined to make unexplainable beauty.
And I will continue to complement the sepals as others do to the petals.
The thorns are your love.
If you don't know how to handle the rose right, you'll be pricked.
The thorns are there to protect the rose from being hurt, though.
Taking every small mistake and punishing, simply to let them know that it isn't okay.
You must know where to hold the rose.
Some people cut the thorns off, though.
"Taming" the flower.
That is simply killing its beauty.
Taking its defense and trust limitations.
Cutting and hurting the rose.
Losing its entirety.
I now know how to hold the rose.
Between the thorns.
Apologizing but accepting when I accidentally prick myself.
You're my beautiful rose,
And I love you.
They say, “Take the nipple out of your mouth.”
But all the success ahead of us is merely comfort; comfort that our father's could never give us. It's OK though, everyone needs control. Time is strong and constantly moving, everyone needs a direction to avoid their minds being ripped in half. After all, Individuality is just a controlled habit of protection walking.
Walking fast. Walking slow. Walking in step with someone else.
Walking right in. Walking right through. Walking right on out.
Walking backwards. Walking forwards. Walking in a big circle.
We're walking on our conveyor belts and one day they'll tell us to watch our step, we're getting off.
Sometimes you sneer at the lower paths and masturbate to the higher ones.
You could fall off your own road at any moment so
you shouldn't strain your neck like that.
Sometimes you stop to kneel down on one knee.
You're pretending to tie your shoes but
they're always knotted.
Sometimes you jump a thousand lanes,
hoping someone is watching your majestic leaps.
Will they follow you wherever you go?
And where exactly
are you going anyways?
What they'll tell you:
What they didn't tell you:
How to Believe.
How to Embrace.
How to have Faith.
How to Love.
“Take the nipple out of your mouth.”