Under Construction

-

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reading Flyers

-
I demand, Not ask, I seek, Yet, denied all that I find. I am not small, Neither fragile nor coy, I am in the front line, Feral protecting mine, I demand, Not ask, Only because I am mistaken, For lack of a better term… Varied genes lost in translation? Is it nurture vs. nature? That I blame your mother, The villain you have become, The father of diverse seeds planted, Embedded with psychosocial issues, Only you could control, I demand, yet, for them, I have to ask; To make peace between us I demand you stay in my bed; Stop wandering aimlessly in others, In other people’s homes, You chase the thrill of getting caught, Or is it drinking from the fountain of youth you seek? A whisper said, ‘to rejuvenate your waning ‘love’     Your mind evokes pointed breasts, As mine wave at my oblong valley below, You stray, Looking, No, I demand and not ask, That you do by me what you vowed, I expect no less. I demand and not ask, As my mother drags us thro...
Read more

Mis-using

-
Image
 Set myself on fire  Let the synthetic melt  The acrylic burn  And all this fat sizzle  Set myself on fire  Cause you are a fool Set this voluptuous thigh ablaze You see this fuel  You see it get lit I will use your shirt too And the underwear I bought you Burn all this down  Cause you got me feeling unworthy  Unworthy I roll it over  No No, me, unworthy? That doesn't sound right  Look at these lips  They set you on fire  Burning and shaking  Or is it quivering  To the pleasure of my pulses  Set you on fire  Burn you Cause you a fool  I am worthy I March  I am worthy  Set you on fire  Let the flames lap up your memory  Cause mentally charred dead  I will be at peace  And above it all Beyond the sin
Read more

The old man and I

-
Image
The wind blew hard, Cars swooshed past; Bicycles, people, swayed faster, And he stared. As we walked along, The old man with the bristly hair, Yellow but fair, He stared; At me…? In shock at first; Soon he realized, I was real, Just very dark, Darker than him, And so, he stared. We walked side by side, Slow, sometimes fast; Wrinkling the cold kissed skin, His neck motioned, Sideways, sideways, His eyes squinted open, The old man, He, Pretended not to see me. But together, we Snuck looks; One of wonder, The other of disbelief, Is he serious? Can he be mad? What is he looking at? I need to pull up my leggings? Damn, what is it, he wants? He just keeps looking… Once in a while; He gazes, Into the distance ahead, His patched coat from winters gone. Up, up, he climbs the steps faster; Only to stop, and look down, One long hard look, She backs away, irate! He sighs, unconvinced, Scoffs almost, Ho...
Read more