Nothingness is without claim to a product. That product, being a flesh-eating desire of nothingness. How does that truly define what nothingness with a claim is about? Simple. It eats the nothingness from right out of your very claims. Tempting you to feel the flesh-eating desire of nothingness claims take variety in its own product. Giving you the desire to take effect against the primate that localizes themselves against the nothingness with a claim. A product to fashion itself full of thirsty varieties. A deep contemplating resolution to how one gently caresses there very essence into the nothingness. Claiming there very rights to its own product. How does two rights to a claim, maximize a product? The flesh-eating product of nothingness becomes dreadfully thirsty for those varieties belonging to the primate stepping into unknown territory. The flesh-eating nothingness begins to dissolve the essence of that primate altogether. Going easy as not to strain its own consumption. Or is it just desiring the inevitability of a never-ending claim to thirsty varieties? The primate’s essence filled to the brim with its product, is equalizing the claim of itself into the nothingness’s claim of flesh-eating symptoms. What happens when it’s had its fill? It’s a flesh-eating nothingness, right? What do you think it’s going to do…? Paint pictures of wanting to do something, even thou it could very well strain its own focus in the moment of doubt. No! It’s far older than some primate losing itself one consumable bite at any given time. Losing yourself one focal point at a time. Never knowing what the claim of nothingness could really amount to! Or what the product of flesh-eating gives when consuming you whole!
A flesh-eating nothingness isn't proud of it's claims, until it's invoked by a newly developed primed example. Logic in the essence of its victims will surely tempt its desire even more. Or even longer then it ever suspected before.
My Father's words resonated in my head What did he mean by "product"? My seven year old mind tried to put it together like a puzzle I couldn't quite put the pieces together I left my father's words scattered on the floor that day
Ten years later you crawled out of the darkness into my soul you took my dignity that night and my mind couldn't help but drift to the grocery store ten years back where my father told the cashier that he had made a "product" for men
The seven year old me picked up the words my father spit out, not knowing what they would one day do to his little girl I put them together each piece fit perfectly I knew exactly what my father meant by "product" now
"Product" that's precisely what I was to you something to be used for your satisfaction I was to be submissive to the male "dont disappoint him"
I was held captive in my own body a body that was now in your possession
you used me carelessly left me dry without life nothing could be planted in me and flourish anymore
Somehow what you did to me was acceptable what you made me do over and over again until it was ideal for you was acceptable I am a product that is what I was made to do I was meant to be used by you over and over again
this poem is about the night that a man took my dignity and forever used my sexuality against me.