And as I bathed in milk, it became curdled. My heart eventually turning everything sour. It is a magic trick only I know.

her milk is him

her eyes are full of good tidings,
washing my body with lavender soap cake,
all the dirt crumbs of a hard life drained
into a circle of holes that carry away carings,
to places where their squeaking can’t be heard

her hands, pillows for a head so sorrow-weighty,
her body, her hips, a bed upon to rest,
and he wonders,
how did he exist before she become his nest,
her hair of grass, now, a coverlet for twigs and strings,
when then he laid his body down for disturbed sleep

her milk is him, a restorative that refreshes his content,
how did, once upon a time, he let existence subtract
his time on earth without any relativity, time unrecognizable,
he was in no one place, pathless, subsidizing nothing,
unable to distinguish tween the straight and the curved

her milk in him, whitens his soul, she calls out,
“you are my shepherd, my king, my David,
my white marble sculpture of our current existence,
when you drink the white of me, it is I who is fulfilled,
when you write of me, your milk is me”

Better jealous, better hated, better
Dismissed than be allotted false praise and joy.
A man is his own pride, his own defeat
He ought to know his place and worth; his price.
Besmirched with equal fault, with equal blame
Not one may stand pristine nor pure, alike
The worst we deem in those disdained at heart.
I flinch when I recall the days before
I saw in each a flicker of contempt
As if it could no longer be concealed.
An honest life is all I want to lead;
No pittance due, no pity earned, no worth;
To hate myself and be hated by them.

A collection of atoms falls upon water, grass and air. Interwoven by light and by sound.
A woman gathers the atoms together and drinks them, eats them and inhales them into her lungs.
She breathes out a seed, a small seed no bigger than the point of a pin.
Using her hands she digs into the earth, and then plants the seed deep into the earth's crust, covering over it with the dug out soil.
She snatches a sleeping soul out of heaven, his old memories fade away as the new ones stretch over him.
The first new memory is of him shouldering his way out of the crust, breaking out to find the light. He is met with the kiss of sunlight, he cries out, and in return a breast cries milk for him, silencing his cries.
The world is a blur to him, a blur of light and motion, but eventually it comes into focus, and for a first time he sees a face come through the light. It is a beautiful face that shines brighter than the light that surrounds it, a face he would come to call his mother.

I dip my fingers in me
thinking of your face.
biting my lips,
figuring out your taste.

you seem like a
drop of sweat on my nape,
honey milk on my waist.

One summer
you shall flow
and the flowers
would glow waiting
for the rains.

Do not haze, neither haste.
the world inside me will tremble,
and so will my skin.

for some stones
now know
how a bud blossom
in the cold snow.

©ladywithpen

***** Cat ***** Cat
Want to drink some Milk
Yes Sir, Yes Sir
Three Bowls Full

One for Myself
One for my Kitten
And one for my lazy sister
Who sleep for the day.

The milks gone bad
My drinks all flat
The lights now flicker
My favorite fruit‘s bitter
Every morning a pimple
My shirts always wrinkled
I’m sleeping less
My hairs a mess
If you were faking it
round of applause
for my favorite actor
So help me god
since you’ve been gone, Love.
my life’s a disaster.