i snort the pillow;
lick shampoo off her hair strands;
she’s on to witchcraft.

a white picket fence; half in between
where men made bruises and batter
women kept secrets hidden in their lips
throwing away the keys

running to plastered trailer walls
a home i thought it could be
that peeled at its seams
my father tried to keep his hands rough enough
for the dirt to fall off of my skin,
his arms to comfort me
so much could only stand an amount of time
after barbecuing underneath overgrown peach trees,
shopping for strawberry lip gloss at mall city
now laying in piles of clothes,
behind brown leather sofas,
in a chipping bath with a jug of Hennessy,

his hollowness followed me in midnight internet schemes
where i thought love would soon be
only to find men calling to make more batter
and i soon, became a women of locked lips
answering with clothes off, her hair *******
in attempt to make a new white picket fence dream,
half in between

Thank you for trying to help me cope.
Thank you for trying to offer me hope.

But this wound goes deeper than the soul.
It's the way the world is broken as a whole.

You'll never know the crush to a little girl's heart;
The shock and fear and disgust that starts

When she learns how men will see her,
How they'll fantasize on how to use her.

When she learns her power is minimal
And she's at the mercy of men who are criminals,

That being in this body makes her a target,
And her worth is decided in the beauty market.

Every part of her free game to criticize,
And valued only as she's seen by men's eyes.

So forgive me if I have trouble believing
That the world is better than I am perceiving.

But my life is the proof that what I'm saying is true.
Be thankful you can't understand all I've been through.

she was a good wife:
beautiful, honest, kind, soft -
just like her silence.

Living with a heart so big
but with a body that resonates to a pig
what would he do
if they said no .
Nothing
he would cry on his laptop
while trying to study

"I see you in both ways-
not the optimist. He fails to choose naturally.

You are that one cake among the rest
that presents herself with multiple coats of frosting,
no one would dare cut you open after appreciating your beauty -
he's afraid to taste something suspicious."

In every petal lies a tale untold,
Of grace and power intertwined as one.
A world of wonder, fierce and yet so bold,
Where love and strength unite beneath the sun.
In these eyes – I’ve seen a woman’s world…

___

It’s a rose, enchanting, blooms with beauty rare,
Yet danger lurks within its soft embrace.
A tender touch of love, a whispered prayer,
But I ask if it has the strength to hold its place?

Still in quiet thought, I dwell and muse,  
As a man reflects on such; alas his worldly views,  
My words a burden felt heavy, and steep,  
For in such a world, my voice shan’t speak.

unlovable heart with a lot of love to give  in
no one still born to perceive it
black heart ;still not beating
locked in my room screaming and dreaming
getting this **** in

parallel universe where
i don't get beaten
by the birth givers that really didn't mean it
Man emienem is all I got ;
apart from this half pound of ***
that will make my blood here clot
stuck in a lousy hospital
ain't got the cheddar to em back
money and fame ain't all I lack
Don't even have my parents to have my back.

i met this woman with nice ol' heart
but maybe all these problems
is just gonna make us grow apart
But i really wanna love you man
just give me a shot ,
just a chance and maybe a dance

Pin her upon bulletin boards
like some poster of a prize to possess             the crowd
putters past the perfect picture,
eyes across her breast
eyes averted from her breath:
for the smell reminds them she is not dead
she is something more she is their darkest moment she is aliv—
forget forget forget

They tied her with string, dulling pain
with sweet words, promises
of wealth
decay.
Maybe with time comes the slow death
of love, the dissolving
of once-revered offerings upon the shrine
of the meaning of "human"
on SALE. Gaze! Gaze upon
her line-marks of your so-called
respect slashing into her,
bands of red sash upon her pillars                      you, YOUR
hands suffocate,
deface that sweet taste of her crumbling of hash marks counting the days until the object falls to waste, discarded to die.
Years and years, again and again.
New posters, new pictures, new crowds.

forget forget forget