Sapphic sapphires glisten in the moon
These ladies say that Hades makes them as dry as a sand dune
Maleficent and Cruella mark their spells on their heads
And quietly they tiptoe and sneakily their treads-
Move with a rhythm only grace can create
Enchanting are these women, seeing them is fate
To be an audience member to their auras and their moves
Is an opportunity that is divine, spiritually proved
Indigo in color, L words leave their lips
Straight and curvy bones and fat   vibrate from their hips
They mesmerize, they enchant, they let their inhibitions soar
Until they dance away, unhinged, and you can't see them anymore
Remember this encounter, it is one that will inspire
It will make you feel a type of way, it will ignite a fire

On the nights you have to leave ill feel the ghost of your breath on my skin in my dreams
Carefully i play the memories of your lips on my lips, my neck, and my chest
The memories of your hands on my hips, my hair, and my wrists
I can hear you say "i love you" and i can feel the "please dont leave me"
I can barely keep my eyes open and when i do all i see is you
Toes curling into the sheets and my fingers curl into your hair and under your chin
I can feel your heart beat against mine and it feels like we are one being
Fit together perfectly

Withering, withering, withering down.
A spiral of emptiness and weakness in my own heart.
A sickly form of hate.
A frail figure of shadows and misery and memorie.

O! and what is the field of golden corn compared to the bruise on your throat.
Choked by the ******* of godliness, when she is called life///when she is called death.

Forced to spit out your last drop of blood, through your pharynx///through your eyes.

Sexually with the knife in hand. Like stone to butter, stabbing within the heart of the devil. Like the beast with three *****, who carries the devil in his sinful testicles...you stab stab stab at the flesh of your own chest.

No hair after the fire, no blood after the lust.

The sexuality which assaults YOUR OWN SANITY. It becomes you.

Withering and withering within the HELL of your own spiral.

O! and when are you to become the devil within the sac of the beast?

To be born and reborn again within the light of the sun.

Burning away in a pool of blood that you craved forever.

Burning back together in a pool of ***** that you craved forever.

O! and who are you when you are left naked and alone by your own hand in a pool of hate that you craved forever, I asked myself.

Loads of bubble wrap piled behind

and it crackles like how a stomach

gets twisted on itself after

eons of sleep

decoding it's diaphragm to follow

the blips and beeps and bleeps

encrusted on trusting

a tight gut reaction to

wanting to touch



you.



But waiting is so difficult.



Loads of suds creep up

forming in cysts or scabs

upon stomach encasings

all slimy and orange inside

with a stretchy cover all

deep royal purple with

dark pink veins coursing

through it encoding the

rapture of film recording while

the lining inside gets all clammy

with arousal secretly clenching

this yearning and aching just

wanting to touch



you.



But waiting is so difficult.



It's a difficult, messy procedure that leaves the body exposed if it comes in contact to actual skin and flush and heat and mucus but



it is a necessary step to

colloquial banter within

the clustering of organs all

internally arguing while the

overwhelmed brain tries to keep order and the genitalia hums

all quiet in the corner

because she knows she runs



the show.



And it's funny because the brain knows he'll have to give in to

the actual world of living folks

and climb out of his bundled

fabulous fantasies in order to

make reality plausible.



And in wanting you



and in waiting



I've found myself in visceral shock

to the point where I panic and

all that's jumbled up and bound inside me seems to clench tighter.



And I fear that in waiting for your mutual touch



and I fear that in wanting to be with you so much



I'll collapse under the weight

and never get up.



Loads of words hide beneath me

resting in tubes that resemble

the small intestines in looping

nests of unbridled questions.

Will it be enough to see you

and not touch you?

Will it be enough to talk

with you and not kiss you?

Will it be enough to be chaste

and respectful when all my brain needs to do is test you?

When all my brain wants to do

is clobber you whole, chew, then swallow, spitting out bones?

It takes all I have

to control

each action sluiced

and sliced

into little round cubes

burnt by internal fire

soft ash dust

sparse windy air

pocketing my desire

for you in pieces

just waiting

for the right moment

to leap into unknown waters

feet first

so frozen and

the river could be cold

to the touch

but your skin is warm

and gentle

heat rising

searing my arm

tingling my senses

scrambling my brain

to mottled bunches.



I have too much



self control



(and it's eating me alive.)

My father never left me
I came to him every day
I knew he loved me
And he disciplined me for only good

My father never hurt me
Unless it was for fun for me
He thought precious things of me: For me
I was drowned in love

My father never knew me
i grew into my own
I neglected his love that God planted in him for me
He grew old and weary and began to drive me crazy

I never knew my father
i began searching for him
When I found him. I recieved love and pleasure
I found myself lost as i called for my daddy

My father is my daddy
He made me his plan with his lover
To nurture me, support and take care of me
The way I've always known him is as my daddy

My daddy is not my father
My daddy does not exist
The ******* i *** while in my bed annihilate me
My inadequacies face me eye to eye

My daddy loves me so much
I keep his life going and going
He knows God and His blessings by me
His passions are the cosmos of life's reality for me

My daddy is who i realize he is
My daddy is who i realize he is
He was my daddy and always will be
He was my daddy as my heart lost my daddy

I trace the freckles on your skin into maps of places I'm dying to explore
And today I finally understood the feeling of hunger and depth and passion as our bodies searched desperately for intimacy in one another.
But what we found was so much more,
as today I learned the feeling of not flinching at the thought of being touched.
And feeling the way your hands danced across the contour of my body, I finally felt like art.
And the moans that passed my lips is the music that we make
And I never want to stop singing for you.

Have you ever felt your identity shrink?
It comes and goes
Like a thief in the night

Withering away each time
Another one removes your shirt, your pants
"Shh don't stop"
It is you in this room
Alone

He is stripping you bare
He tells you you're good with your mouth
They all do
But they never listen to you speak

it's hard,
my story is of love and of strength,
in which one i do not possess,
walls of water leak into my room as i wait to drown,
but my soul says be free,
it so badly wants to be,
but it be,
trapped.
In a web of lies,
a maze of confusion,
but a window of certainty.
Knowing what it wants,
but not knowing what it creates,
knowing that it is me,
but knowing it isn't what they want it to be.
My soul is at war with it's truth,
but in battle with it's reality.
What do I do?