devilwoman

i'm fixated on just what it is that makes a man tick.
why fragility...such as human spirit...and the wind...
are not enough to make sense of it.
why we are all so selfish at the worst times to the best people.
why there is no remorse.
no apologies.
no hugs to those we hurt.
why we feel the need to "get back" at eachother.
why we can't leave well enough alone and get on with it.
with life.
with starting over.
fresh.
i've had my share of instances where i was willing to sacrifice the only thing i had, just to please someone.
myself.
and i've been disconnected, and retracted, and subjected, and affected, and i can't quite figure out how to get those terrible things that were said and done out of my head.
protect yourself.
proJECT yourself.
speak free verse but do it with a smile.
flail your hands around, reach for the sky, caress those breasts, and do it with emphasis, kid!
because your voice is too quiet.
make it so that god could hear you if he was ever listening.
make it so that that man that hurt you, can feel it through to his core.
make it so that one day, they'll all remember your name.
who cares about your face.
or your words.
or what you had to say.
but...you have to say it.
you have to.

stuck

he puts on the expensive cologne i bought him for his birthday last year so he can attract cheap women.
and my heart is on it's knees praying he finds happiness, and that i find mine, too.
we deserve it.
but it's seeming that it won't be found in eachother.
because the night is too long to get by alone.
but it's the way it has to be.

a dog that won’t eat spam.

i want your spam in my can.
and i want to know what your children taste like.
i want to feel them running down my back.
i want all fours.
my heart tells me to bail out! bail out now!
before he...becomes just another guy you'll write shitty poems about.

you want slam poetry?!
I ONLY PERFORM POETRY IN THE BEDROOM, MOTHERFUCKERS!
i'm carnal.
and i don't believe in god.

i need him to ache the way i have.

riding with an angel by my side

like a sheep with freshy shorn wool.
i held my hopes in my arms like a child.

not too moist, or it will dampen.
circling fresh, pungent air.
making me feel reckless.
driving me to silence.
driving me to talk to strangers.

here...if you have a cigarette lighter...you...are a goddess.
and the world is an oyster ready to be swallowed down.
but we are learning...only now...how to savor it's taste.

we cried in eachother's arms, and in a moment, i was fourteen again, and she knew i loved her.
but i'm starting to think that i didn't quite deal with it...it's still there, hidden away like a big secret on the minds of a room full of people...

i often wonder how children do it...how they get so damaged, and turn out alright...

we took aim for the stars and found peace in the american river...lusted after trees and saw views that for a split second, made me believe in "god".
we chiseled "souza" into rock, and stood proudly as a family.
and for once, i felt as though i owned my identity, and my name seemed to fit me well. and i was no longer afraid of who i am or where i came from.
i experimented with drugs and hoped the world would not be sold by the time i was sober.

like the horses, grazing on dry grass in the meadows.
running free, but still, somehow...caged in.

i am the forest.
tall. strong. everlasting.