power pose
in front of the angry men
"we're not scared of you"
but they should be
she spits fire bright
from lips she wears matte dark
she's digging the perfectly manicured claws into the palms of her hand
hands that bring incredible generosity
and incredible pain
depending on how audaciously you approach her
with your alcohol-stenched breath
and a body that takes up space
but contains nothing of substance
aside from liquor of course
an empty, angry vessel of wordy slurs and slurred words
she knows they don't deserve her tears
they should feel grateful to receive even a smirk
an ounce of her attention
in this economy
with the men who untuck their shirts after a long day's work
unaware of what the women have been up to
is priceless
you can't commodify what you can't touch
they are not beds waiting for you
to lay down on
to make your lives easier
while you weigh down upon ours
her silk sheet skin
and the comfort of knowing she will be there at 2pm and 2am
this is her home
this body is an address
it is not your residence
loiterers will be fined
she will be fine
power pose
the power grows
this is your power prose
because mama,
you will be fine
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 6:49 PM UTC
swaying across the hardwood floors
swoon, swoon, swoon
under the moon, moon, moon
your fingers dance across my spine
like piano keys
your hand tapping against my thigh
like a tambourine
a gospel choir singing
in the background of your laughter
sobriety is easy
when you're drunk in love
and you didn't even know you could dance to this
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC
rationing myself out
after giving you my everything
to place yourself in the hands of someone
knowing they can ruin you
is the ultimate gesture of trust
and when neglected and unwanted
the plunge of death
when your heart finally gets handed back to you
broken
beating irregularly
scared to even flutter again
how could you be so sweet
and leave me so bitter
now it makes sense
because salt looks a lot like sugar
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 2:05 AM UTC
stick this dagger
in this chest
make it hurt
like you do best
i sink it deeper
because i want control
and spend all summer
looking for what you stole
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 12:29 AM UTC
perhaps i should have been gentler, they said
but you don't tell a forest fire how to scorch
what to burn
i was given one clear motive
and you would be given no warning
we are not entitled to what we did not give others
you steal innocence, and i can't buy back time
like a phoenix,
she rises from the ashes of her dollhouse
invaded and destroyed
but painted on the outside
like a perfect little home
we were anything but
and when i was handed a torch of my own,
how dare you meet my eyes with anger
at what you created
you say i'm not what you expected
and certainly not what you wanted
and to you i say,
good.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 7:56 AM UTC
i want to love you enough
to make the way you look at the world change
the peripheral vision allowing you to see the
panoramic beauty
of a place made better
because you walk in it
you trust me
to touch your skin
and watch you cry
and listen to your truths
and i would hold my stare
if it wasn't so painful to see you like this
what is it like to be like this
i cannot ask you to stop gasping in fear
when you don't recognize me entering a room
i cannot ask you to stop wincing, crying, or thinking
because what happened happened, as you say
but this is not something you can so easily let go
i want only good things to happen to you
and i want to be one of them
i'll never let you go,
even if i can't love you enough to change very much
i'll love you
and sometimes, that is enough
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 6:43 AM UTC
i saw her fiddling with her ring in an effort to dodge my eyes and avoid conversation. our parents discussed their philosophies for life and plans for us.
she tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and only looked up at me
when i was speaking to answer her father's questions.
she laughed at all my jokes,
she watched me drink my orange juice when my eyes were averted.
"that's a lot of pressure," she says in the kitchen when her mother tells her to help prepare lunch. i want to get up to help her. i have no appetite. i just want to hear her voice more than one sentence response at a time.
i'm sitting in the living room, legs crossed, eyebrows raised.
she's fiddling with the same ring on her finger, and i think to myself
as i watch her, that i want to someday,
place a very specific ring
on a very specific fingers of hers
someday
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
proud parent of a closeted gay kid
my honour student has clinical depression
crybaby on board
if you can read this, this is the closest thing to intimacy i have experienced in weeks
the voting system is a fraud. i think we should reconsider the infrastructure of the american government before endorsing a candidate via the back of our vehicles
how's my driving? validate me please i'm so sad
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC
doesn't matter how i hold it,
liquor in my hand brings shame to the man
i've sat at hundreds of dinner tables,
watched the women politely drink their water,
nobody stops their husbands from making fools of themselves
and my father takes pride in never having asked to be picked up from a bar
there's so much more i expect in a good man than sobriety
i drink to forget, more often to mourn than celebrate
i am classless, i am not marriage material anymore
it's 1:15 in the morning, and i see brown curly hair
and heartbreak wearing it like a costume
approaching me
6'2" and probably a little younger than me
still, he gets to be the tower
even though i've been here longer
you can't hear wedding bells in a place this loud
i took a (tequila) shot in the dark, and kissed him like i meant it
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 2:35 AM UTC
what is that college readmissions essay supposed to tell you?
i was depressed, but you don't acknowledge mental health as anything but a lazy made up excuse to not work as hard as the people whose shoulders i stood on did.
"what have you learned, and how will you apply that as a student at our university?"
how do you define growth?
i'm going back to school, and that's what i want to talk about, but i can't help but focus on why i left. i can hear myself and others, battling the war in our heads called "pragmatics vs empathy".
i can't tell who's losing.
i can only tell who's participating in yuppie culture, i can only draft so many letters to my parents, and the congruence of my academic self and every other version of myself.
what does a gap year mean (to my family)? what about two?
i've had this stand alone identity, and it's cost me a lot.
i miss learning.
there are so many barriers, so much omission.
do i only make one-year commitments out of fear for anything longer?
i'm jumping into a lot of different identities, with their own different paths, but we ultimately come back together as one, as me. it's meiosis. only one of them has to eat or sleep. i could keep working and running forever. parts of me are really and only good at that.
how do i fulfill the expectation of living up to what my parents see?
how do i get recognized for "growth" and how do i identify areas for it?
i'm sorry, dad. this was a really long voicemail. i'll talk to you later.
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC