you may think i string together poetic words because i'm the kind of girl who'd waste her 11:11 wishes on your love and pathetically puncture your name into my journal but as harsh reality has it i'm the kind of girl who loves the taste of smoke and resents the thought of emotion

I was shipped across seas whipped and cuffed
Cattle, not human I of colour. Aeons on,
I was finding hope
in the life of a carpenter's son.
here comes hooded, undead.

born on a shore kissed of seas, I grew up the country hill
swimming rivers at dusk gathering berries for the stars.

gathered to mercilessness in death.

My skin was hide for shoe and soap.
Herded into camps I was worked to death.
For you believe therefore I am.

O veneer that wears thin on a whim,

to think that gods can walk amongst you.
gory, gory your glory

blessed vaunted humanity.

I write for a dream I once had a long time ago,
where I thought things were sweet,
where I thought things were alright...
when really things were starting to crack and rumble,
when things were already falling in my world.
But I didn't realize this until someone opened up this to me,
til I had to go through a lot to be inspired,
to open up.

I write for someone that let me down,
and kept letting me down every time
I thought they were changed.
And knew this,
but I wanted to be proven wrong in my mind,
I wanted to prove that someone like me could be wrong.

But I guess im always right.

I write for this guy I once loved,
and the many women I made love to,
to find out what my taste was.
And what I found out,
is I really don't have one...
I love everyone,
whoever they are.
I feel something for the people I touch,
I change and I know they feel more for me.

I want to everyone to know that I love them,
I care for them even if they hate me.

I write for you as well.
Yes, you that's reading this...
I write just for you .

I wear you like pearls,
Dripping down my neck,
Into the curves of my chest,
Rising. Falling.
Beneath the weight of your breath.
I clench and release the air.
Suffocating.
Your fingers in between my lips,
It was a sweltering summer in the sheets.
And we swam in our own ocean,
Tossing about and-
Rolling.
Tides of arms and balled fists,
Crashing together, a furious,
Lustfull storm.
You wore me like perfume,
The aroma of volcanic ash,
And I erupted in your arms.
And no sunlight remained-
Except in your eyes.

When is this going to stop?,
When is this going to end?,
When is this poem going to make sense?,

When are we going to stop using this word?,
When is it going to get out of date?,
When is it going to be late?,

When is when going to die?,
When is when going to lie?,
When am I going to stop asking weird questions?,

When?

My thoughts held captive
between a goddess' thighs
Though, within her eyes
is where I feel alive.

033010~2.02a