It’s been: the ugliest, of epiphanies; it’s been: hard as Hell, to swallow, such realities; it’s been: likened to both, blown-out knees; it’s been: anything but, thoughts of, a recovery; I am: overwhelmed, by the notions, I’ve denied, admittedly; I am: undertaken, by the actions, others aim, at me; I am: what I am, just a woman, no hidden, secrecy; I am: out of the race, came in last place; I am done: now, out they come, to bury, such burden as me.
Beautiful, gorgeous, happy glow… Your Sweetest Nothing’s put into syllables, for show. Fiery, wanting… glued to your face your mouth’s curves a daunting place… I’ve been before But tell me how – I bow down into the splinters and cinders that litter the floors like your long line of whores I see them all, I chooseto ignore… You never answer questions your many Life Lessons have taught you little of the snap inside my rubber glove We are meant to Own our possessions. Are we not? You have seen quite a lot Of my flesh, Camera flash; digitalized dash in red LED text; what now? Onto the next… Right? Or am I wrong? Am I dumb To play along? See here’s the thing: I see the strings Attached to each one Of your crispy clean cummerbunds… I see the line of Space and time, wrapped inside Of that tattoo – You were too pure to follow through… Ouch! this hurts miserably; Yes you , yes me. Look away if you must Please? Your face is too much to see, anyway. Ouch! Just go on about your fashionable way. You were fine before I came along In my string bikini thong to knock upon your door; You’ll be fine now, and I guess… so will I, somehow – Just forget it all, my cries and calls, forget me don’t see me… don’t see me fall. You won’t believe me, Anyway… Your ears don’t hear a word I say. Go fucking play As you have, each and every day as it’s passed. What was that? What did you say? “Score?…Because of…?” And you’re talking about How I showed my bare ass to you – FUCK YOU. For that, I counter you: Mr. Fashionably True, I hope this finds you well; I hope it reaches you; And hits you makes you hurt as you’re looking up my skirt… What’s the score again? Mr. Hockey Man – dead red battery flashing in your corner screen, you don’t know the bones that construct Lil’ Ol’ Me, nothing taken seriously… so fuck yourself, good and hard – multiplied by twelve. I am a star, And I will shine in Hell – Quit kidding yourself.
He had been for so long: speaking to me; through hesitancy… hands in his pockets, perpetually… his own needs, self-rendered obsolete; and so, frustratingly, he’d come see, unfailingly… so uncertain of himself, so unstable in his health; what can I say? The man enchanted me… entirely… his essence, never left me anything… besides on my knees; his touch was, thunderous… always slow and steady, his hands were, always on the ready; to touch me, to reach my inner-being, his fingertips, still haunt me, when I dream, he says he wants me… it’s a thing, wedged somewhere, eternally in between… a lasting love shared, through an average mean; and still, when I think… that it’s possibly, him – HIS voice, calling out from behind me, it stops me from, continuing on… without at least… …a glance behind to see.