Submissive people

often hide a hidden force --


An underground fire.

every ache in my soul is a power outage
the lights are out
the electricity fizzing
the power lines lay on my house
the walls cave in
the fridge is rotten
the humidity lingers
the sink doesn’t run
the internet is spinning
my head is spinning
my brain is spinning
every room too hot to enter
too inhospitable
every little sigh is a sweat bead
dripping and falling
crashing and burning
i keep on turning
the fan on
but it won’t work
my head is spinning
my brain is spinning
my mind is spinning
spiraling into madness
every sentence you spoke is a weapon
the heat is sizzling
the telephone poles are screeching
and i cannot put the power back on
i don’t have the power to do such a thing
i don’t have the power to do such a thing
i don’t have the power to do anything
to do anything
to do anything
show me once, how to do anything
how to do anything
how to be anything
how to be anything
how to be anyone
how to be anyone
how to turn back on
can this turn back on?

|content warnings in notes|

I could choose the music,
but a stranger wanted more.

I lost my thoughts in melodies,
and I left my body stored
in the sunlit parking lot
with a man's lustful stare.

I left with him the music,
And kept what's mine to share.

You admire pieces of me
Soft and beautiful
For the pleasure they can give you
You condemn my capability
Practicality and spirituality
You claim I can’t have it both ways
I can’t indulge my senses and hold power the same
Divine femininity has become synonymous with delusion
In a modern world that will never love me
I am aligned with the moon
I am in tune
With the rhythm of the waves
And the passage of days
You don’t know what I feel
How it is to exist in a world not built for you
Every living soul
Assigning your worth for what you can’t control
All of mankind is built on the principle
That my body was built for your enjoyment
That my life belongs to whatever man finds beauty in my eyes
And peace in my silence
Of course I turn to the tides and the trees and the breeze
To find comfort in their embrace
When you can’t hold me
You mock me for connecting to something bigger than my body
Loving Mother Nature more than the woman that brought
Me into this world
Yet you reduce my strength to beauty
Tell me I am too weak and small and simple minded
To understand a world you built
Out of fear of me
My divine femininity

wait a moment, please.
should she feel sorry for being an inconvenience?
she'd rather plant the seeds of self-love
and wait for them to turn into trees,
sheltering her from poisonous bitterness,
nurturing her inner peace,
so that she can leave this world with ease,
letting time cover her steps with green and red,
letting the branches take shape of her silhouette.
someday this path might be found by someone else,
as unaware of her worth as she once was,
all out of strength, given up on all her hopes;
she'll follow whispers and slowly retrace the steps,
and take her shelter among the fallen leaves,
nurturing her inner peace.
wait a moment, please.
should she feel sorry for being an inconvenience?

Any overworld

is a palimpsest over --


a scraped underworld.

Fear ***** at
my spine, like
a leech,
slimy and black.

The crowds
laugh and imitate
each other.
No creativity,
only brutality.
Little lemmings.
They get raises and
promotions,
accolades in bunches.

Killers of the
dodo and the redwood.

They smile over
tea and the
bones of dead men.

Perfect in
their machine like
minds; immune to death,
like the quest for power.