If the day ends and I no longer have the rights to myself,
Is it truly the land of the free?
Or is it only free to the straight white men that loom in offices and make laws on matters that don’t relate to them.
If I wake up tomorrow and see I can’t love who I love,
Is it really what Jesus said when he said love thy neighbor?
Or is thy neighbor only supposed to be a straight white Christian man?
A man who claims to live by a book written by other men like him,
Claiming stories of a man who loves everyone,
Of a man who said everyone must love equally
But why do these men not follow the simple rule from the book they revolve their lives around?
Is it that hard to love each other?
To love me?
A pained fifteen-year-old girl who wants to love someone and be loved,
Yet the rights of being a girl and the rights of love are ripped out of my torn and blistered hands and handed to the boy next to me who already has his own rights of living.
Is my life worth less than the next person because I might not marry a man?
That I might need to save my life by having an abortion after I’m ***** by the same men who claim they know me and my body?
At least my struggles aren’t as intense as my friends,
But is that a good thing?
No.
My rights might become limited,
But theirs might be truly gone
If the sun breaks the horizon and I lose everyone and everything I’ve ever known,
Will my home of the brave no longer be a home to those who fall into the categories of failure?
The work I’ve created, we’ve created, might be destroyed once the ticks of the tallies grow.

My buddies shared stories

When they wanted protection

But the ******* fanatics’

Decisions were static


Used all possible ploys

To manipulate guys

Into blowing their loads

In their pink little holes


These girls might be crazy

They may well be *****

For all we know

They might want a baby


Regardless of risk

My guys fell for their tricks

When one ruse failed

The girls went down their list


They said not to worry

*** and ***** are clean

When they ****** the next day

It burned like lit gasoline


They turned up the heat

Seduction was key

Till all they could think

Was with the head between their legs


It won’t feel as good

Sensitivity reduced

You won’t stay hard

And I won’t stay wet and squirt jets


You should accept my request

I thought we were cool

If you just trusted me…

Be carefree like a hippie baby!


Emotional blackmail

I’ll get mad if you insist

To protect your *****

Resistance is futile *****


They said if we must

Let ME wrap it up

I’ll secretly poke holes

Or slip off before you explode


She’ll have no *** at all

Or she’ll force you down

And stay on top

Making you drop the ****** to the ground


She says she’s on the pill

When she’s definitely not

Even if you pull out

There’s still ***** in your pre-***, no doubt


Either she’ll give you disease

Or steal your seed for a baby

None of that is love

So wear a glove bubba


At the end of the story

They said don’t stick your **** in crazy

She might get too attached

You’ll wake up with your **** and ***** detached

pay more respect to the women working at morgues.

they tend to the dead
it takes sympathy
it takes care
it takes courage
it takes control

not the control of fear of stray souls
not the control of fear of phantoms
but the control of wanton

and that is why men aren't hired by morgues.

Degrading myself for entertainment bring's me joy
Talking down to myself bring's me pleasure
Which i never had with any women
My friend said women are something to mess with
I don't know if that's true
But my land lady, she is a beauty who came straight from heaven

I want to ravish her
I want to degrade her
To drag her by legs into my world
But that feels like a crime
I am a criminal
Punish me
I am a sinner
With a mind gone rouge
I cannot think straight i am sick with vulgarity
My hands feel empty Is that why she doesn't **** with me?
But can with my friend
Who is a dog walking around streets for food?

Maybe she muses animals
I know she has a loose ****
I should focus my mind somewhere more productive
Where i can do something
Where my mind can stop wandering in the day light
But the dawn light
Isn't that inviting criminals?
To ravish women like slaves

I try to pinpoint when my childlike rage started, but it never started. It was passed through my blood, out of the womb. my mother and father gave me this poison, fire in my blood, that is slowly burning me from the inside out.

Mama's day passes

uncomplicated, she just --


follows dad's schedule.