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 May 2018 Blakbuttafly89
mk
i am in a haze today. it is cloudy and beautiful outside. it is also pressing down on my chest and i struggle for air. i wore your shirt to bed last night and it helped steady my oxygen supply. i wish you were here to say my name and speak to me in my native tongue to remind who i am and where i've come from. i'm forgetting everything, slowly. recreating yourself is only good when you haven't done it five thousand times over. i just want to be me now. but how do i become me if there is no you? pick me up from the library and walk me to class. hold my hand and tell me that you will stay with me no matter how grey the sky is or how cold my fingers feel.
 May 2018 Blakbuttafly89
jb
i was dancing in a field full of daisies and lilies,
the posies were silly while the roses stood pretty,
then the sun went down as the flowers went to fall,
then suddenly a single little beauty stood tall,
little lunar lullaby that stretched upon the darkened sky whisked away the flowers full of power to the other side,
leaving little luna in the garden by her lonely,
i walked up to her petals and she told me listen closely,
“every time i rise, they all leave” is what she told me,
“how come i’m alone left to freeze” is what she told me,
standing high and glowing bright,
i motioned up toward the sky,
up toward the perfect moon,
“isn’t it alike to you?”
then i watched her bloom anew,
breaking free of her cocoon,
full of doom and solitude,
now the sun returns again,
shining out across the land,
thus the healing has began,
all the flowers jump and stand,
withering away and slowly,
little luna halts her glowing,
falls on down and hits the earth,
whispering “i’ll see you soon”
whispering “my little moon”
forgot i wrote this last month ****
 May 2018 Blakbuttafly89
Meera
My pen bleeds
As its ink seeps
My words cry
The seer weeps
I keep scrawling
Until my pain recedes
Walking on my way
Where my lament leads
Crumbling to bones
Changing to fit the needs
My frailty drives me
As nothingness breeds
In madness I did
Those fearful deeds
Now I'll have to pay
The price of my greed
Making me suffer
My demons succeed
In the garden of love
I feel like a ****
I am looking for my way
To the flowery meads
Where the chains will be shattered
And then I will be freed
Sometimes you just feel lost and there seems no way out
Knowing ...
Hidden frozen walk
But,
Unrevealed

.
.

Over cup of coffee and tea
Just sipping
For
Reason never explained
Cheers !!!
...
I never want it to be a secret that when I was a small child
my aunt, sister, mother & grandmother tried to scare me w/
                         with tales of ugly witches that were the living memories of their                                            foremothers &
themselves & my several                            female cousins & aunts & every
other women so I thought all women were green & voluptuous
because all I knew were women were appetizing                       when naked
b/c I had                          seen them all naked as they had all seen me naked
                           from an infant & knew my body better than I in light of diaper changing when I was still a spark of idea not mind per se with girls fingers wiping the sloppy                                 **** from               my baby
                                ****                            ­      as I was a child & they were
                   already unabashed about their femininity; their various scents
                                 smothering me everywhere I went; the recognition of the role
of my ******* in all this was confusing at first until the great
discovery of the universal pink snooch silent in all respects;
                  where all the blood & babies come from after that monumental
              growth distending her stomach until the messy wet child emerged
already protesting; from there I searched out every path to the magical
            snooch patch I could find while avoiding the ogres that lived above
in the raging head of the female person whom possessed said secret
******; my only natural weapon                           my ***** *****
but snooch is not a weapon it's a             sheath to turn the weapon into a quivering rod        of pleasure; to quiver together pulsing rod wrapped in  throbbing snooch
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