I wonder to the wonder of your skin
sun touched and pink
beneath my fingertips
Roused by a memory of memories
reaching heights of loves sweet
play on soul
Thump
I wonder to the wonder of your skin
sun touched and pink
beneath my fingertips
Roused by a memory of memories
reaching heights of loves sweet
play on soul
Thump
Grumble
grumble
the mind
it wanders the streets of dynamite
alone.
Setting off fire works of construction
bubbling
up to the conscious that consumes
phone screens of instant memorabilia.
We wait
for nothing
faster than the speed of light sound barriers are turtled in history
we move
faster than we can keep up with
the blur of wasted Saturday afternoons on the porch creates
a canvas of smeared green and sunset
to feel must be but a second or
self destruction commences in the form of self medication.
I write.
In the form of self medication, I write.
Who will listen
back and forth
the brain
take another
takes another
sip
and I am again tired
who would you take me as
who do you love me as
I lust no one but a place
a hoping
a wonderment of am I good enough and will you please
fuck me I need the self worth.
what else is new to the brain drained by the neon taint
of sidewalks glazed in pink signs of wet pussy and tits that meet your eyelids
take me to the heaven that says I am the man inside I feel they are.
I never once took him for granted. Although he would have told you otherwise, that son of a bitch. “You don’t care about me. “ He would whine after an argument that began over dirty dishes and backed up toilets.
Don’t get me wrong he was a good man in the beginning when he rode me hard and kept his mouth shut. But soon after we married he began to feel and in feeling he began to smother me with questions of whether or not I loved him. Did I need him? Why wasn’t I coming home at night? I mean shit, I can only take so much questioning before I bark, “Look sissy, I don’t give a shit if you feel like I should snuggle you more after sex or spend time with you at night balancing the check book! If I wanted someone so damn soft and pink I would be with a woman!”
A spine, yes a spine is what he needs and I just don’t have the time or energy to give it to him. If he beat me I’d be better off. At least then I could call him a man. At least then I could look him in the eye . Shit, I’d even let the fear keep me home. Something. Anything to keep me home. Right now all that resides there is his damn pathetic whine. Waiting to blame me and beg me not take his love for granted.
Me? Take anything for granted? See, it goes to show that mother fucker doesn’t know me at all. Not one bit.
The words are tight in my chest today. Tight from holding them in as I survive another holiday. Another attack of thoughts and color. Sound that overwhelms and makes you grind your teeth at others. No one in particular. Grinding at all who walk by. All who ask why. All who are all. All including myself. I grind my teeth at myself the most. Continuous grit of sounds deep in the eardrum. I fling them from my mind now in tantrums of tingly emotion. I exhale and ask to have peace with my irritable self today.
Her drought
has run
out of blue and crimson sunset
give me the breaks and she
will grind them.
He and they walk
ask give take
why the fuck not why the fuck so
Let go, let go, breathe and remember to remember to remember to
let go
take toes dipped
in sunlight driven by lust of gold
she stumbles, I catch.
she gives
I grow.
I cream the face the love of the face the eyes you wonder and the mind gives me no other reason why so I take it to mean something of nothing nothing but the making love of words the mind truly getting off without the paranoia of the others brain to intervene on it’s abuses to be alone with the magic of word is my memory’s love I take it in and I milk it thru my brain down to the center of my spine down to the tip that is me. I again cream on face.
I am woman.