You have instilled in me a deep desire to never be anyone's baby.

You didn't pull the trigger,
but you gave me the gun and spring loaded my fingers.
You taste of fine bourbon and
talk with an electricity that makes everyone crave your attention.
I want it so badly that I do not care who you touch,
as long as i am your favorite.

That is a good dream, we both know I will never be your favorite.

I am aware that no one will ever possess you.
You are a wild horse,
you trample over lives and people
like flowers and
you never relent.

You cut me just to **** the blood out of my skin,
you cut me just to see if i would flinch.
I didn't, and I haven't seen you since.
I secretly hope they scar,
so i can prove to myself that you were once there and
this is not just a nightmare that keeps clawing its way back.

I was once one of the empty beings that you touched.

I remember the night i woke up on your floor,
in front of the toilet with my underwear pulled around my knees
and my skirt up around my hips like a schoolgirl gone rogue.

I never asked why,
I was afraid to know the answer.

You always did like to **** me the most
when I was too intoxicated to remember it.

You are something that haunts me,
someone I cannot wake up from.

There is nothing from my life that i want.
I sit alone quiet and got nothing to Flaunt.
Still people can't pass by without making a Taunt.
They say its abnormal , In future it will come back to Haunt.

I don't have passion for any thing.
I say it's not a sin, am happy even without any Zing.
Still people say a Man must grow a pair of Wing.
And one should try and try till you become King.

No answers i Seek for my Question.
I do not wish to make any Impression.
Why do people Have this Obsession
They want it all for Their Possession

i ask everyone to make a confession.
and let me know is it me? or the people?
Who is in DEPRESSION?

I want you.
I do.
I want to sleep next to you.
I want to have morning coffee with you.
I want to tell you about the stupid things that happen during my day.
I want to cook dinner with you.
I want to shower the day off with you and stroke your hair as you relax before bed.
I want to talk deep into the night with my cheek resting in the supple skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
I want to kiss your bearded jaw line and fall asleep nestled against you; fit around you
where I belong.

Names of affection and endearment tenderize couples with their prophecy of a life so sweet  oozes crystals of sucrose. I hope you've all brought the quintessential insulin for this ****** malady.
Baby girl, sweetheart. Who can say that to you, honeydew? He lies next to you and into your ears at night, whispers spoken in the silence of thoughts in the gradient dark.
I was given a name. It's on a certificate. I can show you. "Babe, it's okay."
"Why didn't you answer me?"
"... Huh? What? Sorry, Mom, I haven't really heard that name lately."
I had to write every day. 12 years. More. Circumventing the pale blue dashes of thin elementary parchment.
My goal at the end of first grade was to "not have loops in my d's."
And how can that be, Dear?
Avoidance is the opposite of absence, in which the avoidness is attentive and absence not able to produce a **** to give, the tattered red rag persisting to grow fonder.
An 'S is the downfall of all. mine. Yours.
"I'm so glad your mine <3"
Why am I indentured to you, only when I walk through the kitchen, can't standing to be barefoot because then only one last peg of the possessed woman chain is needed.
Not that there aren't more levels. Danti mentors. Heat lightning, electrocution- are you feeling the chemistry?
I was given skin.
Porcelain. A marble counter top. Albino creatures suffer for their melanlin-less beauty.
Is pain.
Why are purple flowers blossoming on my body that was once a temple in a garden?
My body is Detroit. Spray paint in the form of a Kaleidescapic, mountainous macabre- knuckle
avalanche going down the 90 degree angle that just isn't right but I can't call it obtuse.
I have gang signs littered across the human vessel, spotty and an embarrased brown covered by a collar, and green, yellow and maroon covered by sunglasses.
Love is not possession in the way abuse is not love.
Both own you. Sailing, he's steering. my cruise is on the Slave Trade Triangle route.
You never asked me to get your name tattooed on the past 18 years of dermis cut, shaved, kissed, caressed, burnt and brown.
That didn't stop you from placing yourself all over me, every blooming tulip as a penny for my thoughts stored on your test's word bank.
"Good" is only "not good enough"
mint condition only makes me green.

In the most random place
In the middle of no where
I met a boy
Who turned out to be a nightmare

In a room filled with others
I felt something strange
To look up and across the room at someone
Who seemed to already know me
As my eyes met his
It felt like we were staring for days
And in that moment I knew
Everything was about to change

What felt like hours had passed
Seconds went by
Until the person I was talking to
Snapped me back to real life

I detached from his eyes suddenly
Then looked back that way
He was walking out of the room
When somebody called his name

He seemed displeased to take me
Where I needed to go
And the whole car ride there
He made me feel so uncomfortable

Feeling like a burden
Until we reached the destination
I quickly reached for the door
Then he asked to see me again...

The next time we met
A rush jolted through me
And every time after we parted
Felt like a sad story

This was all so unplanned
And I was lying to myself
Made myself believe
That I was ready for someone else

I thought I fell in love
But realized I only just fell
I hit the ground face first
And it hurt like hell

He didn't really want me
He only wanted to have me
A possession he could call his
Put me in his pocket and keep me

force field
enfolded
each opening filled
energy
titanic excellence
blurred all vision
decision
abrupt tidal change
intimacy deranged
ring of truth
possessed
memory
nostalgia
nausea

Two knocks at my door,* I get up to answer-a shadow in the darkness,
A voice asks if they can come in, I don't even recognize them,
I left the door open a little too much last time, I learned not to do that.
Why, you ask? Because I was all alone and on my own then.

I walk towards the door, the voice sounds blurry, kind of faint-
As if dizzyness and despair seems in the air, I clutch the door,
Ready to open it and then without warning "something" comes
To life, I can't seem to see as "it" moves around on the floor!

Then I finally turn on the light, IT'S MY CLOTHING?
I shake it until the bag is still, it's alive somehow what do I do?
I check for the cause, I'm in the cabin loft, I can hear childish laughing-
Chanting again and again-"WELCOME TO THE BEDROOM!"
My head is reeling, I'm wide awake-is this really happening...?

Your hands/your fingers/your palms,
Twined -a vine- delicate and proper
-The one point of softness in you,
I swear-
Around a cigarette that whispers its
Spiral tower wisps
Before it sizzles when you bite it
By accident (you say)
Before it whimpers, and gives-
The best way to die, surely,
To die on the pad of the tip of your
Finger protruding out your
Lovely balmy palm-
Look pretty fab I think! I want
To jump into them
So you can hold me so close
And I can crawl over, unsteady
On new, shortened (further!) legs
To the point on your wrist where
Your heart throbs the most.
In other words,
Be mine.