"estrogenic" poems
It's hard to describe just how conflicting it is;
To hate more than half of yourself.
How, as much as I hate my entirety with such ferocity,
There's also a palpable hatred towards an actual presence.
And it's hard not to think of myself as jigsaw pieces,
Not carefully pieced together, but instead forcefully jammed
Into wherever impatience let them fit,
Leaving me with gaps, disconnect and feeling mutilated.
It's getting less and less vague as the days go on,
And sometimes that's a good thing.
It feels good to know what parts of yourself you want to burn,
And what parts your disgust decides to leave alone.
But sometimes it hurts to hate things that are so specific.
To hate things that are firmly attached to me, that I can't just tear off.
How can I love myself when I can't throw pieces away,
But my brain is telling me that those pieces stuck to me so permanently,
Are actually...lethal?
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:24 AM UTC
Like the bonnie
Hereditary lines you descend from
You are beautiful
Through cumulative generations
Your estrogenic figure seems meliorate
But that's not what I'm here for
You see I'm here for what's beyond the eye
For I know there are shades of blue beyond those onyx eyes
I desire to engage with your soul
And for your soul to engage with mine
Not in the concupiscence sense
We'll talk about that another time
So Babygirl name your time
Name your place
No obstacles are bound to stop Psyches from attachment
For what I dream we'll have can over every,
and surely create plenty
Babygirl...
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 6:14 PM UTC