Blank page.No words.Just try. Her words,No meaning,My words,No feeling, Where’s the emotion? Try harder.Knuckle down.Be thoughtful. Fresh words,Too plain,Ambitious words,More pain, You’re trying too hard! Creativity flows.Feel inspired.Be natural. Exciting words:Too cliché,Passionate words:Too risqué, I guess that’s the thing about institutions –They just aren’t creative.
Like forgetting your headphones on a long journey,Like the holes between knitwear,Like water dripping between clenched fingers,Seeping like white t-shirts and bloodied wounds,This flower of red, blooms.And Memory forgets herself.
Womanhood sits in my mouth, rotten.Boys feel around, hands like cups,Suctioning, fish-like, leaving half-moonBite marks and blushes that vein outTo hearts that do not know how to heal.They wonder why my response comesFlatlined, I guess I can’t reply whengirls have to die before they come to life.
Guns and roses What’s the difference? One is adrenaline The other a dose Both perform the same function Topping giants and dwarfs alike Making them drink or write Be it a bullet from the metal Or a petal From the rose Each provides an end One being quick and easy The other long and wheezy
Oh stormy nightWhat shall you bringOnly time will tellWhat the queen has said to her kingDid they have a fightAnd if soWho got the winBut seriously That’s enough for nowYou need to leaveSomeone might see us You might be my mistress But the day is my lawful wife
Surrender yourself and dare to be free, dare to be brave, dare to live in the present and feel all the things that come with it. By surrendering, you are accepting your reality and breathing in the moment. Surrender to not give up, but rather to let go. It is only you who can stop […]
Womanhood sits in my mouth, rotten. Boys feel around, hands like cups, Suctioning, fish-like, leaving half-moon Bite marks and blushes that vein out To hearts that do not know how to heal. They wonder why my response comes Flatlined, I guess I can’t reply when girls have to die before they come to life.
A Retelling of Oscar Wilde’s The Selfish Giant Hope slicing snow brings back a late March petal and a big, big smile flushed full in the darkening puddle of Boy’s eyes. Softness loosens itself among two hearts holding tight, hands folded light. Boy raises his plump face. He wants that blooming cherry-pink blossom just there above the […]
He comes to me from the nighttime coldon my ivy snow doorstep and me at my windowComes in big boots and coatsComes in with haircut gossip and grey rumoursMy wrinkle body is old and slow and silent listeningHe is a lonesome traveller blowing from north to east outsideHe is the fearless knight to save prostitute […]