A Damn Mess

I was licking my wounds
but you stopped me.
You wanted to do it
so I let you.
You licked and sucked till
my wounds became scars.
Then, you cut me again
at the exact same spots.

So, here I am, a damn mess,
studying our synastry chart
for the 50th time,
fiddling with tarot cards,
tiredlessly hoping you’d come back.
I want your tongue and yours alone,
and I know that even if you return,
you would lick me up
so you can cut me again.

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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.

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 

Love and Imperfection

We strive to touch the stars;
we reach for them.
We crave to hold them in our palms
but we often forget that
stars have sharp ends.

When we get pinched,
we doubt that what we have is a star.
“This can’t be it;
this can’t be all I’ve dreamed of.”

So, we release it;
we let it go.
We begin to confuse ourselves.

We tell ourselves that a moon
can make a better star
because it doesn’t look like
it has sharp ends,
but the moon usually ends up being
either too big for us to carry
when it is full,
or sharper than the star
when it has proper blades-
when it is a half-moon or a crescent.

When we get hurt again,
when reality sets in once more,
we move to the sun.
We say-
“the sun looks more stable;
it’s far better than the rest”,
but we usually get burned instead.

We return to the star
in a worse condition
than we would have been
if we had been patient,
if we had stayed with it,
but it may or may not
let us hold it in our palms again.
It may or may not take us back.

So has it been with many things;
so has it been with love.

Wounded Healer III

Goddess of Forests

I’m shedding everyone’s tears
but I can’t shed my own.
I’ve got it all under control in public;
I’m a mess when I’m alone.
Pain has injected itself into me;
I can feel it bite through each bone.
I’m decaying on the inside,
but this body is not mine to disown.

My heart and soul are drowning,
and I can’t stretch my hands
to reach them through my throat.
They’ve absorbed too much;
they’re heavy,
but I can’t save them.
I can’t drain the tears and blood;
I can’t heal them.

So, I’ll shed my tears through my mouth.
I’ll cry with my hands and feet,
with my words,
and with my songs,
and with my dance,
till I feel my heartbeat.
I’ll shed my tears as sweat;
they can’t pass through my eyes just yet.

Ups and Downs II

Good times don’t last 
because they stop being “good”
when they become normal.

Ups and Downs

Time is like an abusive partner.

It breaks a person,
sometimes when they least expect,
but it helps them heal,

till it breaks them again.

Spaces and Phases: Something

“She’s nothing without me.”

You made her “nothing”.
She wasn’t “nothing” before you met her;
you only chose to not see her as something.

At that time,
she found it hard to believe
that she was something herself,
that she still is.
She was very sure sometimes,
and she wasn’t, at other times;
she was so vulnerable.

It was up to you to make her believe
that she was something,
that she had always been something,
but since you wanted to have total control,
you were so afraid that she could realize
she is something with or without you,
and she would leave you someday,
you convinced her that she is something,
but only with you.

You locked her in your arms,
then you locked her in her brain cell.
You didn’t let her become
what she already was- something-
and something more.

You didn’t make her something;
you made her some thing.

Addictions

Why are you looking to the
devil to set you free?
It only tightens your chains;
is that fact so hard to see?
The devil comes in white,
the devil dresses in pink,
the devil desses in gold,
the devil desses in green.
The devil dresses in several colours;
don’t admire when you ought to flee.

It numbs your pain, and in its absence, it puts you in pain…

Reign, Queen of African Descent

The darker her skin,
the darker her days,
the harder she works,
the harder she prays,
the deeper she loves,
the shorter he stays,
the faster she tries,
the slower it pays

Your royal highness,
constantly oppressed queen,
though your days may be dark
like the colour of your skin,
you are bright enough to be
whatever and wherever you want to be;
you deserve to stride in.