You keep up the work, baby.
You're a real crowed pleaser.
Bite that toung, not that food.
And you can finally see it.
That face is thinner,
Those fingers overlap more.

You're on the right track, girl.
You a bad baby with a whirlwind storm.
Two years top,
Buy that couch.
Find that stranger and make it obvious.

A colorful accent,
Rosy cheeks,
Lopsided smile.

Let him feel those hipbones, sweet thang.
Do some ******* or ecstasy on that bone,
His choice because it is.

Bounce and you grind it, baby girl.
**** that neck and watch the sun rise.
Tell him. Demand him to listen.

"You see, I was never enough.
Never for the flash of cameras,
The holy trinity of delusion,
The fear of opening up.
I was a child, working for some kind of love."

And you smile because he's about to ******.

"Life is about compromising for the one you love."

You hop off, yiu throw him to the gravel.
Dump that lighter fluid, sweet child.
You use your last bit of strength to lift it up.
Toss that **** over the cliff.
Flick the match to follow.

And you look up.
The sun is up.
The wetness on your face dries.

Fold up the childish things,
Compromise with the ones you love.

One of these days,
You'll be good enough to be engaged too.

Much has been said
against me
however,
I will not be spiteful
or allow hatred,
the beast of darkness
that resides
in the black jungles
of arrogance
and ignorance,
to infect me;
for that is no reason
to give way to anger.
So I refuse to let anger
ugly my heart;
for anger
is the scorpion’s poison
of peace
and love, it’s sunlight.
I choose light
contentment and happiness,
as poetry’s not a contest
of winners or losers;
it is the essence
of a poet’s soul.