Raw
Overpowering
Unnameable
These raw states
That our souls
Are overridden with
Belittled to the term
Feelings
Words such as
Love and hate
Used to quantify and
Identify
Yet
Such words
Limit us
Shake us
Imprison
Mute
Tear
****.

You remind me of him and it frustrates, angers, and annoys me.
But most of all it makes me afraid - afraid to the pit of my stomach
I can already feel the sharp edges of that knife you are about to plunge at me
I can already hear myself sobbing in the middle of the night, and during odd sun hours
I can already see myself hushing myself up, to ask the air around me to kindly be more benevolent
Let me breathe
I want to live, I know right now, but then I would only want to die.
And I want to stay brave, right now I can say this, but then... I don't know
I don't like envisioning myself so crippled.

I'm bound by the hands, chains crushing my heart;
I can't bare to stand, so I just fall apart.

I'm trapped inside, I can't get out
"Somebody help me! Please help me," I shout.

But nobody's there, no one can hear;
I'm filled with despair as I face my greatest fear.

Marble.
Smooth granite, melting, molding.
Lust making my legs heavy like I am fighting quicksand.

This is my call.

Seduction is an art, just like my body.

With curled toes and an arched back I fight my woes.
I can scrub their hand prints off with hot water,
douse my body in bleach and wake up clean.

My soul is one of the few things harder than my heart.
My soul is a brick through your windowpane
in the dead of a black night.

They call me names they do not know the meaning of.
I do not mind this,
they do not know how lonely I get without fingers exploring me, painting me like I am a canvas in need of
the perfect finishing brushstroke.

I am a woman, not an exceptionally beautiful one,
but I can still make your head turn when I walk by.
Not exceptionally personable,
but i know the power of a compliment,
and I will shower you in them until you think you have won me over.

You have not.

I do not belong to anyone,
I do not even own myself.
Remember you will never truly know me,
so go on and forget about having me.

In the dark, yet the glare burns my eyes.
Silence, yet the screaming won't quiet.
My body is still, yet writhing in anguish.

Darkness, silence, stillness... This is the battle.
The old familiar lullaby of numb.
A beckoning finger, seducing me to depths of pitch black on a starless night.
I could sleep if the air wasn't stale.

I've been abandoned,  yet I refuse to be the abandoner.
I cannot give that pain away. It is mine to own.
I am surrounded by love, yet alone every direction I reach.

Abandoned,  pain... refuse, love, alone... Fight.
I cannot be selfish. Redirection is the only option.
I will not let go. Hold the pain close, never kiss the love with its sting.

Fight. With what weaponry? Armed with pain. Reaching, grasping for hope.
Protect the love. Do not let it fall to my fate.
Rebuild. Pain is my weapon. I could cause such harm,  shove them all away.
If only I could reach, yet if I did, I'd take the pain from them, protect them,
And sacrifice myself to no end, but an endless cycle.

Fight, protect, rebuild... armed with who I am.
Gather the pieces.  Put them together. Never in original form.
New stones, fresh mortar muddied with tears.  Reach, to find each stone.
Drag it into place, carefully stacked,  meticulous placement, calculated.
Construct not to protect me, not to hide, but to keep the love out of harms way.
Without love I am nothing.
Deny, refuse nothing.
Arms open, eyes wide.
Fight, for everything.

I suppose this lump of clay is just fine the way it is.
Well, honestly, who am I to try to change it?
I know full well the labor that went into making it
The workforce that mined out the sediments from the soil
The minds that designed that perfect consistency
The psychologists and graphic designers that boggled the package to life
The mouths their incomes feed.
The leftover money spent on beer and records to listen to with friends
Yes, that would be preposterous of me to sully their memory by shifting even a single atom.
I’ll place this lump next to the other lumps limping, exhausted on that dusty shelf.
Their lumpy memories will lump onto me. and I’ll take their non-utilized weight with me wherever I travel.
They are precious. More so than diamonds.
**** it, my niece wants dragons.

If the shackles of the bouldering social structures collapse then the stores are closed for winter.  Sandy can wear last month’s Louis.  

If the whole world allowed us in then you shouldn’t have procrastinated poisoning the fluorescence.

If you open the worn pages of time then you won’t die alone.
Not enough, huh?

Steely Dan the doctor Frankenstein.
“I cried when I wrote this song.  Sue me if I play too long,”
Compost dreams so not long-gone?

If you have to **** yourself, then Paris becomes your drug.  
Why would I intervene an ungrateful brat?

Don’t know if your veins will end up my perfect quill but if I have lose musical chairs to my father I will get you that spotlight *******.