Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
I have written a million poems about my body. How she couldn’t stay in her lane, fit in her assigned container, listen to directions. How she never did what was expected, lived in the fray, wandered endlessly from ship to ship.
Five-year gap It could have been ten, I was so young then Just sixteen, you were just ‘old’ Policing my youth, like you always knew better Me and Molly, your mall rats We partied late into the night and brought you coffee at sunrise You scolded our morning-after-those Wildberry Vodka Read more
until you splintered under my skin,
and the blood rushed to fight infection,
He had already locked the front door so she couldn’t escape, couldn’t open her cage.
Perhaps he uttered a prayer to whomever murderers utter prayers too. Perhaps he gave last rights to himself, took communion, had a last meal, said goodbye to his mother, brother, sister, children, the cats.
I like to read books
and watch the sunset
pull dirt out of sentences.
However clear, it is
always unclear to hit the
mark of unquestioning
compatibility that will
some day make history
in the circle of
unemployed emotions
while keeping the door
unlocked, with vague
promises, unfinished
sentences, and laced with
a lingering scent of
the past
Turning in on itself,
turning out reflecting images of men,
transforming into disgust.
I touched upon my entire anatomy of silver ribbons and glittering intentions and deep black tar of unidentifiable insecurity without first learning how each part of me functioned.