your song didn't need lyrics
I heard everything
in your breath
against my neck
cigarettes
your hands insisting
a duet

Not all flowers have thorns
but roses do

roses are special, they are beautiful
just to the likes of you

so many flowers are pretty
but nothing compares
to the aesthetic of roses

and that's why they are aware.

their thorns protect them
they are born to fight

but they keep us silent,
cut our voices
they make us die

some people don't like roses
or don't like their thorns
they'll cut off their leaves
because they aren't thorns
and they'll cut down the thorns because nothing should be in the way

of their love

or so they say

when they cut our thorns
they are so proud
but do they know they take the rain out of clouds?

they break the spell,
they obstruct the beauty
sometimes they go ahead and just shoot me

I wonder, I wonder
oh dear rose of mine
why you die, oh you die
without your thorns sublime

not all flowers are roses
but none wishes to be
for the life of a rose

is as miserable as torture makes us be

Defiled, I
Lay my battered bloodied body at your doorstep.
You cut my heart into 12 pieces,
Perfectly precise.
Am I to be happy that you went to war over me?
Plodding me deeper into the ground with your step.
A cold body isn’t warmed by happiness.
Or by the flickering flames of Gibeah.
No, I remember it was you who threw me out.
I remember. It was you.

(imagine and picture your FAVOURITE THEATRE
remember that the SETTING tonight is
the stage you built)

first, i went to air my ***** laundry out
cautiously and deftly peel off the skin
from all the places touched and fold it up neatly
away, to be put into drawers
and brought out to wallow
on nights like these

the unmaking of a person is violent, yes
but it dully smells, too.
it is ***** and reeking with sharp dried sweat
wicked away in the cold
i go to fold away the memory of that cold
of my - huh, what’s the word -
b-b-b-bravery braced bent back breaking
on the side of a road that gritted its teeth

and i go to put the loneliness away too
in a suffocating airing cupboard
to not let it draw breath while it
watches the world go by
through a faltering crack in the door

INTERLUDE

(what did you do, those of you sat in the wings
and those of you pulling the strings
you washed your hands, reflexively.
you washed your hands again and again.
so nobody would think this dirt rubbed off)

now i am expected to empty the dishwasher
in front of a yawning kitchen window that
lets in not a chill but a blizzard and i am
unclothed unloading the dishes
i try to cover myself with a plate but there are
accusing eyes at the window here
to gawp at nakedness whilst i stacked bowls
into the teetering towers of a tiring told tale
i drop a misplaced cup and step on it
fall over -
doing a jig of pain, red hot embarrassing
feet dribbling lazy scarlet on the wet floor
what a spectacle, what a show, encore?

(and for those of you in the front row
i am deeply sorry.
proximity is pricier and more painful
and what i regret about this graceless fall
is that you had to witness it at all)

but all that’s left is to sweep the floor
so then i kneel down and sit there legs in dust,
inhaling until my bones are sandpaper and
chafing against the inside of my skin.
draw the curtain and

let me sit a while, please. in this dirt.
let me sit a while in this dirt.
oh, i know. i know my knees are white and
it is settling into my hair and inside my eyes
but i just want to sit here and be *****.
i have the broom - i am holding it, see?
to sweep away and brush apart and
pack it all up into a breathlessly shiny sack
but not just yet

(bored now, you make to leave)

unfinished i step underwater
but the shower is scalding and yes -
yes the ash falls off and the hollow thud
becomes a wet sludge
eking itself through the drain
leaving a grand total of nothing behind.

(SPOTLIGHT: and suddenly! the airing cupboard bursts open and reveals that the piles of laundry still reek, stinking sharply of sweat and ***! and it seems my dishes are still *****, lines of grease splattering down the clay! oh and the floor is just as gritty, smudging oil into the creases!

you in the wings, tired of this PLOT TWIST
you pulling the strings - wishing to cut them
you in front, i am sorry again but -

i can’t bear to try and clean again so -
let me sit and pretend, please
yes, yes, in this dirt with the curtain drawn
just a little bit more and i will get over it and
go through another spring of cleaning onstage so
please, let me -
let me sit here just a little while longer.)

how the honey drips down your fingers like it longs for your wrists.

i dont even like honey, but god help me, i love it.

i dream of how it glistens, glitters, gleams.

my body is a temple, almost rubble. everytime you breathe, and give me more, its like an earthquake strikes and i fall to the ground more, one day ill just break.

in a good way.

i want to be drenched it in.

glorious golden hue, sparkling on my tongue.

taking the gift, looking you in the eye as my eyelashes flutter. do you enjoy this? giving all of it to me?

your honey is so precious.

youre so ******* precious. do you think i only want you for honey?
i could do without it just fine, but oh god, not you.

but please dont stop giving me honey, i hate it so much.

isang hawak na di ginusto
nagsimula sa panghihipo
pag iisip mo'y kasing dumi
ng burak sa estero
nalilito natutuliro
magsasalita ba ako?
kapangyarihan mo'y inabuso
ginamit para bumango ang pangalan mo
para maitago mo ang halimaw na nagbigay ng lamat sa buhay ko.

Isang gabi! isang gabi lang!
nadurog ang pagkatao ko.
kinulong mo sa madilim na nakaraan tulad ng pagkulong mo  sa akin
sa madilim at maliit na kwartong iyon
mabilis ang pintig
naririnig bawat kabog ng dibdib
paralisa ang katawan
di makasigaw
tulong! tulong! mga salitang tila naipit
sa aking lalamunan.

halik na di ko ginusto
yakap na di ko hiniling sayo
mga hawak sa aking katawan
nandidiri ako sayo
seksuwal na panghahalay
di ko nararapat pagdaanan

lamat na di malilimutan
lamat na mananatiling parte ng nakaraan
di mo na ko maapektuhan
ang lamat na bigay mo
ang aapakan ko
ang magiging boses ko

para maparating ang mensaheng ito

walang sinuman ang dapat makaranas nito!
walang sinuman ang dapat mabuhay ng may takot mangyari ulit sa kanila ito.
walang babae ang mahahalay base sa kanilang pananamit, kilos o pananalita.

ang lamat na bigay mo,
andito man ito
pero di na ito hadlang
sa muling pag ahon ko.

& of the myriad ways
to drive a man to feel
The goddess weapon
Is *** appeal