you were like a drug i couldn't seem to get enough of.
each touch,
each kiss,
each sweet nothing you whispered in my ear,
was a way for me to get "my fix",
a way to feed my growing addiction.
you recognized this control you had over me early on,
quick to provide a re-up when you saw me coming down from the high
loving the power so much that it became your drug of choice
but it wasn't enough.
my fixation,
my dependency,
my incessant need,
it wasn't enough for you
so you took on the role of my enabler
pushing the limits of my tolerance so far i **** near overdosed
the addiction started to take its toll
your touch became rough and cold.
your kisses, scarce.
and you whispered
nothing sweet
into my ear.
but this didn't matter,
I was hooked, and you were in control.
I tried to quit,
I tried to walk away,
I tried to listen to the desperate pleas that came from
my family; telling me to come back to them.
my friends; telling me they miss me.
myself; knowing I wasn't the same.
but as my blurred vision started to clear,
your face came into focus
and your touch softened
your kisses covered the scars that you created,
and the sweet nothings you whispered in my ear were enough to make me relapse
again,
and again,
and again.
and you had control
again,
and again,
and again.

n.p.

She was born in the back alleys of bones
left as scrap thrown to the dogs
by men who chewed her raw
and picked their teeth
with the edge of her.

When sprouts formed,
and skin and flesh blanketed her existence,
and blood dripped into her veins
from body bags in dumpsters:
she began to grow anger,
and brain,
and heart,
and eyes,
and fists.

So she may see the men her tossed her,
and attain her vengeance.

We eat shawarma and we share da pizza
afterwards partying, never alone on dat gig
meet a *** just to bang her wit my homez
me salutin' to carlos, yep, it's like dat:

he be spending some time behind bars now
ain't no biggie, we rely on da boyz
neva had nuttin' but now we ******' top-modelz
as maxwell argued: "open your mouth, i'm gonna ***"

watch, how we double our profitz...
da hottest gang under da sun
once bonez said:" man, we be stars quite soon!"
and each memba represented his part

he told me: "sit down and write barz"
cause dem gangsterrappaz mostly be phony
we no lelleks, i got men behind me
187 street gang, sampler number four

New perfume in the air, sweeter than I normally like
the sweetness cannot erase the memory of that night.
Beer music bodies drink music night bodies music drink you
I can’t wear those clothes anymore, not the perfume, not the makeup.
I want to forget it all, the slideshow that starts playing on repeat.
I want to feel something, I feel numb.

I want to cut, rid my skin of your memory and replace it with my own
I want to stop eating, until the starvation clears me out, makes me new
I want to eat everything, so I feel some semblance of full.
I want to do something to forget that time with you.

Eyes follow me in the street, they’re not yours, but my body doesn’t care
heart quickens, breath shakes, I am afraid.
Anger replaces fear, bottled up until I just want to scream
LEAVE ME ALONE
I walk to the school, to the market, and I don’t dress up for you

My homework sits out but I can’t do it today, maybe tomorrow,
I said that yesterday but the numbness won’t go away,
I feel detached, uncaring.
I need to cry, to break things, to heal and yet I’m stuck in this chair,
this one room.
I feel dead inside, remind myself to eat, to drink water, to sleep, to move.
Sweet perfumes lingers in the air, begging me to start over, to forget, to walk away.
But with it on, I still think of you.

Some men are cruel
Some men are mad

Some men are fools
Some men are bad

Some men are kind
Some men are wrong

Some men are blind
Some men are strong

Some men are cold
Some men are grateful

Some men are gold
Some men are unfaithful

Some men are insecure
Some men are lovely

Some men are mature
Some men are bubbly

Some men might have a heart of ash
But not all men are a piece of trash