I pressed my prancing ear upon the chest of the thin melancholic paper
the words dripped like purluded dreams of infants
I beckon to trace my invisible whispers deeper into the parchment
the pen touched the edge of tatter
and my veins pump the bluest blood through my fingers
Im bound by the seduction of the black art
mused by its very exsistence
Im in a constant dilemma of letting it persecute my very movements
hurl my insides to make them distorted
it is what allows me to walk straight
emotions spit darkness into the light
and I am basking in the harmonious sun
leaving splinters on every pore
and I beg for
more

be so kind to speak harshly
to lovely to think smoothly
and open your skin so I can peer inside everything you
believe in

waters thrusting without a sound
in my playful obstacles of the notes that bound my lips together
and I am purging thoughtful gazes in every direction
or so to speak

I stand and hear snaps applause for my devotion
admiration and unforgiving blunteness
into my perception on the side walk the brim of homelessness sits on
and I hum as I walk away from shaken lands
the happiest tune I ever learned

the findings are premorse
and the abstract facts are not enough
you see

when I speak, forgive me but I always try to transgress
logically
fame in the writing of words are a bore
and there is no cure in them
speech is in the pit of the abdomen
words are poetry spat out from the core of any woman