Poets I am calling out to you?
I have a question?
Do you gain exhaustion after you write after months of bottling ink inside you?

Does it feel like a sort of tired pleasure ? A sort of burst from your inside , leaving you so drained but so pleased ?
Like an organism dripping from your soul? Does expression make you wet?

Melt my bones and fat and then call me whole.

I’m clawing my way through the moist ground
My nails fill with debris of our suffering
I’m calling out to you broken
Come save your princess
Come lift her up and caress your little girl

But you look at what a damaged possession you have cut into smaller pieces
You look back in disguist to see this nothing crawling on the floor
You realize she is so small and she holds so much baggage and you cannot be a home for so many possessions anymore

You walk away and she screams the type of screech
That makes the world smaller
What have you done ?
What has she done ?

You have taken the universes gift and you have buried it within yourselves so deep that you cannot remember how to love eachother

Stop
Breaking

You will heal
And she will always remember the taste of your sadness

Goodbye
Ocean find your next victim find your next fish
You were always bigger than everything else
You always contained all the magic
You were always the sustainer
Thank you for sharing your holy water

I will not make your drug habit comfortable like everyone else , I will not make eye contact with you because you do not deserve to see me
I will not tolerate the inhumanity that makes you make me crumble I will not tolerate you and how you disregard my being by falling into substance

I always idealized my mum
Maybe because she was the closest thing I could hold onto , my first home our cells both absorbed nutrients from the same blood stream
But I am getting older and. Am breaking to the thought of how she is not my home because she is his home and he hold a key yet I have her inside my blood
And I’m really sad because I know now that he doesn’t even have to enter her as she waits for him at the door with her fingers grazing the **** yet when I’m screaming for her to let me in all she does is “acknowledges” my pain
~ she will always choose him

I sat in the back seat of that car
That very afternoon where the sky decided to show it’s vulnerability
It’s emotion churned drastically occasionally letting out a loud scream
It looked like a rotting ice cream
( I enjoyed staring at the painting the divine artist created , I believed it was just for me , to “blow up” and share to the world what was winding within me)

But in this car I watched your eyes in the teeny weeny mirror
I saw your pain , I saw how you were hit as a child and how your father never knew how to hold you
And I swore my heart almost jumped out of my me , luckily my rib caged it in to allow me to feel eternity a little longer
I made sure that you never saw me watching
That was too intimate for us

- you never knew how to embrace your little girl, maybe that’s why she found pleasure in being embraced by all the boys ( it’s okay now I will heal through my writing and I will not blame you for not knowing how to show me you love me , it’s because your father never knew either.