Women are forever tyrants
who are lovers
and wanting to be professionals.
Women are animals
In the Wall Street Jungle,
In the bed
In their minds.
So many things leak out,
my mouth, and lungs leak fear and breath.
Usually I am so controlled
that when all control ceases,
fear drips in, anxiety flames and tears flood.
Where, oh where, did this come from?
The answer I keep stumbling upon,
is simply... self hate, and no confidence.
Someone who seems on the surface:
    Strong, independent, loving
is really an active volcano of doubt beneath.
And how to feel to express that,
but with no remorse, and cursing feed back.
My mind is complete,
     completely untrained.
Running and painting wildly through this life.
With in my is emptiness,
    but deeply I know,
with out me is empty space.
within is mayhem and confusion.
Stored into boxes of odd shapes and sizes,
swirls of color and thoughts swarm here and there
Love for all who are whole and broken fills enduringly.
However my praise and hope is centered and always full.
Messy, lovely, and fearfully I go forth and live.
I don't nor won't fall for all the blame,
I won't rely on the applause.
Then!
Realization strikes recklessly
that even though control is scary,
Really I needed something,
    something grounded and ready to take on the life.