Don't speak
We are silenced
We are shutdown
We are *crazy

Why?

Is it so impossible?
Is power really unattainable?
Is a voice that repulsive?

The rules aren't the same
Expression must be stifled
Love must be dimmed

Our thoughts, our hopes, our wants
They just aren't valid

**Are they?

How many people ****** in this room?
Hopped up on speed or coke
Throwing their heads against the walls
Until they cracked like piggy jars

Crutch in a crescent
I lost a good friend because I couldn’t bear her
******* random strangers
As if *** meant more than friendship

**** these patriarchal structures
Disneyfied landscapes
Monogamous nuclear values

This world is wretched
And I took a part in it

Smoky air, fedora and billboards,
testosterone-fuelled dreams.
the purest of all male forms in its finest
yet darkest days.
Who run the world? Men.
The sweat pouring off of the masculine brow
that controls what we are prohibited.
The lights of Morris Minors flooding the
streets.
The watchful eye that sits upon the ashes.
They’re in charge. Them, and only them.
A red right-hand to those anti-them.
They will tear you apart
if you decide against pledging allegiance.
Or you’ll end up in the sand.

Admire the proportions, the features, the confidence.
These are supposed to define the ideal male.
These things have nothing to with my perception of ideal.

When I put myself in that position
I call myself Michelangelo, David in front of me.
I admire his proportions, his features, his confidence.

I throw myself so far into the fantasy, reality becomes a fog.
Enamored by him, his features, our closeness.
I am entranced by him, we transcend into the unknown.

I return to reality, and realize that I've gone too far.
I can't take back the words I've said,
or the time I've spent staring into his eyes.

But I'm no Michelangelo and he is not David.
My inspiration is much closer to my heart.

The love in my heart.
The passion beneath the gaze.

I’ve got to **** her to prove I’m worth the time—
that she doesn’t need that other job
and that she wants to be with me.
I’ve got to **** her,
so she knows that I’m a man,
a person worth relationship;
that can please her any time,
and pleasures looking good.
I’ve got to **** her so she’ll stay with me,
and love no other men,
to keep her love as strong as now.
Love is always mad.

Her eyes looked like she'd cried, but her face was an island.

Her oceans were troubled-
tormented with waves and ripples
and the occasional
oil spill.

Her palm trees swayed
in the industrial-strength
night and folded down, absconding some
miraculous treasure.

Her sky was not everlasting and I could
draw the line
where the clouds would descend
over her
brilliant blue.  

They
were rumbling,
any stranger
could see. Her poolside vistas
trembled and down fell
the empire she called
her paradise.

Though it was never truly
hers.

People don't understand the creativity that flows through me

If only you were this good, you could see what I can see

All they can say is Im the best

Yeezus

Kanye West

A-K-A

G-O-D

L-M-N

And-O-and-P

I was given a Pet Plant
like a dog
collar and all
Ohh wait
That's women

              ≁≁≁

She coughs up metaphors
like it's consumption and the 1920's
All that blood looks like freedom

              ≁≁≁

Tentacles like teacups
And I drink the poison

Body appreciation is important. Learn to love the skin you're in. Yes, i posted a picture in which I am in my underwear. What more is showing than me wearing a swimsuit? Nothing more. Why is it okay for men to walk around without a shirt on but considered unacceptable and pornographic for women to be seen *******? Who created these rules? Who decided it was okay to discriminate against women? I don't ******* want to be "sugar & spice & everything nice," I want to be my own person. I am powerful. I am mad about stereotypes and "boundaries" placed on women. I don't ******* like the color pink, why is that a problem? I like blue, but I was raised in pink tights and pink dresses. I am breaking free. I am being my own unique person. A powerful woman.