disconnected ,
my torso has been torn from my legs
and i lay in pieces, separated
miles apart ,,

wires, like silver veins,
stem from plants
and flowers,
like
little golden ropes .
a noose around a garden *** ,
and
a robot without its head
.

they always say that love is blind ,
but i think love
must be cruel —
for she dressed me in red and then
left me to die,

and you know..
a tea kettle who boils
also screams ...

Swinging from a fraying rope
Clasping on to lies you think I'm desperate enough to believe
Pathetically gripping words though I can clearly see fibers stretch and break from tension of reality
The weight of awareness too heavy for your false promises to bear

The rope I'm gripping tightly have
taut fibers twined around each other.
I wove them that way, meticulously.
One string after another, its form gathers,
and I'm proud of my craft.

I've used it to save myself and others,
pulling and tying knots, anchoring.
A tightrope to dance on over and over,
Tugging, stretched, fighting, breaking,
but my rope's getting slippery.

I've used it so much it's hard to hold on.
It's overused and now
everything's
going
wrong.

Only a matter of time before I can cut it
without effort,
just one scissor,
and it's no more.

I'll tie it back together but I can only try so hard.
It's wearing down, going gone.
It withers and soon I'll have none.
Nothing to save me, or them
if I start abusing it again.

I clung to hope,
              but it was to tight
                             to loosen.

I swung silently in despair.

You say You want to breed _

me

You want to put Your seed _

in me

You want to get me face down _

naked

just don't need another Mr. _

Fake it



my brown skin spoiled for Your _

tongue

my heart beats a rhythm to Your _

drum

my essence is in sync with Your _

sensations

my love GPS is linked to Your _

vibrations


You can read my body's _

mysteries

You produce the scenes in my _

fantasies

You command my loyalty and _

attention

You wish i'd obey Your _

direction


the only gift You want is to _

control

i am the award You want to _

own

my belly burns for Your blue _

fire

my skin tied in Your knotted _

desire


Winter 2016

your voice is a curse
that i can never get rid of.
it entices me,
pulls me in
until there is no more rope to be held
and you have to throw me back out again
just to reel me in once more
so you can speak to me
with your voice made of poison.

i can never tell who’s worse.
me.
or you.

Anxious thoughts shroud my mind
Thoughts of self-harm and suicide
Troubled days unsettle the soul
Uneasy nights make me cry

Rope creates a fantasy like no other
Train tracks lead to an unclear demise
Bridges invite an easy escape
Knives carve thin skin where veins reside

Everyday follows another
An endless cycle from which I suffer
To live is to feel pain
To live forever is to go insane