Venus in “Deadtrograde”

A plate of pain keeps
the potential heartbreaker away.
Two glasses of my old tears daily
will help me not go astray.
I am strong and I need no one’s attention,
but I want to be desired,
and I want affection,
but I was hurt,
I don’t want a repetition,
but I want love,
and I can feel the tension.

I don’t cry.
I don’t cry anymore because
there’s a pool of my tears
in my heart,
and I like to swim in it,
or go down, down, down,
and drown,
when a potential One
comes too close
to my feelings’ flat.
If anyone is to decide when I drown,
it has to be me, myself and I.
Would you give another potential
pretentious,
manipulative
dingbat
a chance to decide when you die?

Six planets are in retrograde
in my natal chart,
and venus used to be one of them,
but she’s not anymore.
My venus is dead;
a man has stabbed my sickly venus to death.

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The Passover

He looked like every other angel of birth,
but he was an angel of death,
He looked like every other angel of berth,
but he was an angel of dearth.
He would make you moan in pleasure
so he could make you groan in pain.
I had been warned by his ex-prey,
and I was prepared to drive him insane.
I sprinkled the blood of his victims
on my door,
and in my eyes,
and in my ears,
and on my lips,
and on his head.
“You can’t kill me like you did them.
You have tried in vain, lame.”
He passed right over me,
and he never called me again.

Out of Reach

The stars have remained special
because they live in the sky,
far away from our touch.
If they lived in the sand,
we would mistreat them 
and kick them around,
and they would mean nothing to us-
nothing more than mere stones.
We would get too used to them,
and we would not appreciate them.

I should have stayed out of your reach.

Protect Your Love

Love is a beautiful spirit
that we get possessed by.
We don’t just feel it,
like happiness or sadness,
it becomes a part of us.

But,

spirits get possessed by other spirits.

Love could get possessed by obsession,
and obsession by jealousy,
and jealousy by violence,
and violence by pain,
and pain by regret,
and regret by hatred,
in no specific order.

Guard your love from the other spirits,
for it can be protected.
Guard it consciously,
before it gets suffocated.
Guard it internally;
guard it gently.

Let your love live.

When Death Loves You

She married Death so she would not die.
She gave him her love,
everything she had,
everything she was,
and Death loved her very much,
so much so that he wanted
to please her completely;
he wanted to be with her
for the rest of his death.
So, he let her come first;
he put her on top of his list.

Love is a Butterfly

If you truly love a butterfly,
you ought to let her fly.
She’ll show you her buttery side if you do.
If you open your palm wide enough,
she’ll always perch in it if she wants you.
Don’t break her wings off
because your fears make you want to.
If you squeeze her in,
you would either weaken her
or make her cry,
or make her die,
and at any chance she gets to be free,
she’ll fly far away
and never come back again. 

What is Love? III: A Cage

a_bird_in_a_cage_by_sebowebo-d5esu3r

“A Bird in a Cage” | Sebastian Gomez 

Dear Love,
why don’t you love me?
Why do you like to punish me?
You possess and drain my strength,
but you let the other go scot-free.
When I am in you
and when I am not,
when you are in me
and when you are not,
I am always lonely.

She Suffers II: “Where are You?”

Tom-Thomson-Woodland-Waterfall-RTT02

“Woodland Waterfall” by Tom Thomson

The man isn’t clingy;
“clingy” is too belittling,
it’s degrading,
too degrading.

He is possessive;
he knows what he wants
and he’ll get and keep it at all costs.
Being possessive is cute.

The woman is possessive?
I think not.
She is clingy,
maybe too clingy.
You can’t own a man;
you have to let him live.
A man is not built to be
with just one woman.

You see, unfortunately,
men can’t be hoes,
but women can.
Being clingy isn’t cute;
it will never be.

I’m Not a Bloody Playtime Pool

Drown

Painted by Brian Kirhagis

You wanted to be let in,
into the flow of my emotions,
into the depths of my feelings.
Why do you want to leave now?
Oh!
You have your life to live now?

I asked if you could swim
and you said “yes”,
you’d do anything to get in.

Is it too cold for you now?
Is my water too dirty for you,
too contaminated for your soul?
Do your lifeguards want you out now?

Were you looking to find fishes in me,
to feed them and keep them for your use?
Are you disappointed that there are none?
Do you wish that I was more salty?
Have you found a different water?

Why don’t you talk to me?
I don’t want you out of me;
your presence satisfies me.
I am so used to you;
I don’t know what to do.

You can’t just make me trust you
and then mess up.
Cum, tears, sweat, blood, pee;
how do I separate all of you from me?

You see, this is the kind of shit that…
*whew!*
…this is the kind of stuff
that gets motherfuckers drowned.
I’m not a bloody playtime pool.

I’m a sea.

-Yemoja 

Dead Love IV

African Woan

She was only married for 5 years,
but she lived with the man
till the day of her death.
First, he was the love of her life,
then he became her man,
then he became her husband,
then he became the father of her children,
then he became the man,
till he was simply a man,
a man that she lived with,
that she had sex with,
that she fed,
that she washed clothes for,
that she went to events with.
A man, and nothing more.