I am as black as a chalk board left with traces of finger prints that never really go away.  Powdered up and dusty, ruined yet every one seems to come and play.  Despite the coarse sound they claw into me, I am more resilient than a mirror ever can and will be.  You see a reflection just bounces and I internalize all the things I’ve been impacted by to decipher foolery from what is wise.  

I am not satisfied with my social interactions with people lately because I fear they like my internet alias more than I do…as if no one really knows who I really am anymore. I am losing sight of myself too—too distracted by the spectacle of it all, failing to function at the primitive level because everyone I love hides behind their screens like a colander that keeps the water out.

Sometimes I close my hands 
and pray to the void in you.
I find my freedom in a rhyme
And in your eyes.
Send me far.
Keep me safe.
And if you want to test me,
I’ll try my best.
In these words I declare myself a vessel
For the rest of time!
Sing to me a lullaby of Giant’s Causway…
Away, away, come sail away!
oo oo oo oo oo oo 
Sing me home.

Shadow like a Rodin

Shadow like a Rodin

He’s watches me check myself out in the mirror
Wonderin’ if we’ll do it again
Can’t believe, finally, at last we gasped together
Next time, me and you in my bed

of malignant fascinations

It’s probably
Nothing,
And if it turns out to be
Something,
It’s still probably
Nothing.
You just have to name it something else.
 
The brain, a sergeant
The organs, soldiers
Disease, the war
And breath, the calm

supruntu:

Irving Penn

supruntu:

Irving Penn

I assumed too much of u, oh
Been aching for your touch
Waking to get choked by you
Boy have I said too…?
HUSH-A-BY, goodnight
I’ll see you tomorrow
RUSHING through my sides
Like “Symbiotic Sorrow”

So I died a little more last night but I needed rest to remind me that I still have the option of choosing whether or not it lasts or not.

Every night folk lay their heads
Expecting to then rise again.
Maybe those who keep rested,
Eventually do wake up…
But elsewhere…
In some other dream?

Its in the wake of hurt me nots that always seem to insult the receiver rather than shine a light upon how the sender might have felt. And in angry words exchanged comes a disregard for the other as she grabs for her heart and clenches it like “am I really that bad?” And no. The sender just feels really bad. And she wanted you to know. But in a game of I love you and my ego so, how can the receiver just accept and let go of who they think you as even though you’re hurting like: woa, I feel so far left behind? Afterthoughts are contagious when you train thinkers to forget you can get angry which happens to be my least favorite reaction because my dad likes that emotion so I choose forgiveness. But somehow I chose to forgive before I could swallow, usually accepting it wouldn’t sit like shit in my stomach, I figured I’d just poop it out. But I held onto like a sickness and it was legitimate despite it’s swollen affect on the receiver who had no idea I was still digesting forgiveness like pulled pork after midnight.

Of fucking up, folly + forgiveness

Boy is black but burns like clay
And if I should respond and say
“You look so hot babe!”
He’d scoff at me like lovers do
And wipe away his sweat like dew.
 
It’s weird, you know…
To be right here…
The question marked grey blend
Between forever and an end so near…
It could last a day…
Like years, it seems…
But how must I redeem myself
Before the man of my dreams?
 
Raw as fuck I was!
Scoring mostly when I sported
A look called: sunrisen whore.
And of his spots I kissed to protect,
Wondering if my words would ever connect
To his core for even once more.
 
You see, I fucked up minor.
In a way, that put me at his feet…
He must have liked it, though:
A broken record of “I love you, my sweet.”
 
But how many I-LOVE-YOUS
Must I declare
Before they stop mattering
Or before he numbs up to stop to even care?
 
Of a long drive home,
Through the city Peter Pan passed,
I stroked the hairs of his arm to melodies of womanhood
So bitchy, redundant and crass.
 
We held heads up high though
We rode the road with calm eyes of dread
Almost to get rid of me, it felt,
Against the horizon he sped…
 
He kept us safe for hours on end,
So I suggested I Uber home.
He rolled his eyes so stern but,
as fair as any gentleman,
I silenced up but,
still felt pretty alone.
 
As far away from my house he parked, he stopped
He was tired so I let him be…
I hopped out of the car and missed him already
But no doubt as men sometimes get,
he was simply sick of me.
 
The trunk lid hit my head
As I grabbed my stuff I realized he wouldn’t budge.
But “that’s OK,” I told myself
Baby just needs to get home,
I really couldn’t judge.
 
No key to get in,
His tinted window was stuck stiff and still
So I took my ridiculous weekend load
And hiked with wonder right up my hill
 
His hands were gesturing me
I must have left something,
a kiss goodbye perhaps could cool the sting
“Thank you,” he mocked at me
And suddenly,
I had lost him
And everything.