These wings don’t flock
I am not forced by any wind
Ungrounded from the land and molds
Behold everyone, the individual
A pure source
Pure eyes
A soul who’s unknown
Doesn’t quite belong anywhere
Found in anything and everything; every being
Haunting
Smokey listeners
Reaching for the shallow limbs of black
They sink and wail to discover life
And so I remain, printed and somewhat flaky
Together, forested in fictions
I lie to myself when I stretch out of the hopeful comforts
I’m picked as bark
The dog days are quite holy; haunting
The body was muddy and dug out of void
Being, holy as well
Peer through
Identify me, then leave me to be, leave me alone
As I grow feral to the moans of cicadasÂ
I will touch the golden skies in faith
The ones I indulge in and tell stories about
Black Sheep
I can go anywhere and find home on my skin
Resting in dew
What’s new
When strangers are blue
Sketched and watercolored onto blocks
I’m an iridescent rock with moss
I wrap my locs when I’m around em
Pretend I’m Medusa, not a bit hesitant
And my shadows vow to move exactly how I move
As I pretend to blend in as if I belonged here
I dodge small talk
I know real voices, true hearts
I’ve mastered how to mirror; starting over less foreign than I
I knew I was alright
I was a locust bite, bitter
In the cool hybrid air
I made my way through the stolen
What I gave away could never keep up
My gift was melted and sculpted
Sometimes I’d call it love
Secrets
They would call me insane if they knew of the voices I have above my head
They would call me insane if I told them of my enlightened mind
So they want us to think aloud
And share all our secrets?
Bone comfort, adored lover
“The things we have in common, probably why we get along and also why we’re no good. The toxic pleasure in the mutual stroking of each other’s egos, shadows, soft spots. We are impermanent, so I can be in coexistence with you until we’re not. I look at you tenderly and will call you a lover for the rest of this life regardless of how, if, or when things end. I genuinely hope you’re able to connect with more compatible lovers. It’s one of the most pleasurable things, and good for da soul.”
“I agree Miss mulberry. Beautiful word choice.”
I wouldn’t call all the people I’ve had sex with a lover. The fate of my lovers and I tend to be bittersweet. I know it all too well. It’s comfortable having the dynamic we have. Like all, I see a piece of myself in X and a piece of him in me. He resurrected a part of me I thought was dead. He got me dancing again..
“He heats up and I lie down with him. Licking skin, fixing our faces.. He is pressure, I volcanic rock and I soon glaze over.”
I know I can’t carry X to the other side when/if the time comes. I’m pretty sure I want to grow, to learn how to relationship, to try wholeheartedly choosing someone and commiting at least once. To face my fears, and cast away my trust issues. It sounds nice, the vision is clear, the work however not for the weak. And relationships are my greatest weakness. Now I’m not weak, I’m just not sure if I can actually do it, if all of me wants to, if I’ll get the chance, if I have the tools..
Because if I’m honest; more often than not, I don’t want him; or anyone else, to be mine. A part of me doesn’t want to be wanted or possessed in that way either. It’s a vulnerability I’m uncomfortable with. It’s a sacrifice I have mixed feelings and thoughts about..I love my solitude and being my safe space. I like him and having him around, and the feeling is mutual, and that’s alright. being lovers is simple, freeing, safe..
“Play with me. Stay with me. Relax here..”
I think I knew this all along, and I know the longer we remain the more bitter than sweet the end will be for me. It was supposed to be a smooth ending, but I threw my hands up and gave X what he wants, what a part of me wants. We’re fairly open and solid with communication so nothing is a surprise. I know him and I know him well. I know our dance like the back of my hand. I am willing and leaning in. I can be here, now. And if we stay fucked up and never heal the parts we share, we probably will wind up dancing much longer than I intended…
I just don’t want another cold goodbye, or to tire. I wanna be warm still, tender still when it ends. I had a chance at a soft clean slate, but he is a charming woodpecker and I’ve never had a lover quite like this so I’ll indulge until I don’t anymore. He’s familiar and also unknown, and well I’m pulled…
“You help me see and understand nothing.. There is no right or wrong with you.”
..All of my lovers have a special place in my heart though..
“Love is supposed to be free not lethal.”
..I wanna be a better lover..
..I’m grateful and I’ll abstractly draw him and write passionate poems when the heartache comes and in the meantime..
“My love comes in all forms.”
Nature & nurture
Pink
Cotton pink undertones
Close by with gentle age
She was creamy, so soft
My eyes sparkled as we met
Pixie baby looking all confused
Going for a ride with mine
I sit silent
I study her magic
The way her skin rainbows
The concern in her delicate sweet face when I leave
Tiny glass
My lover was passive
He was made of glass and
We didn’t appear full enough
Tried making eye contact in summer trees
Seeing we weren’t meant to become lucid bees
Just tiny things playing make believe
Reason
I always come back to sadness
Maybe it’s a shape shifting anger
Maybe we’ve hung her; together
But it’s all I ever knew, it’s whom I make true intricate love to
I inflicted upon me paired with hesitations and soon to be’s
cause well maybe I’m human
I sink through all your deadly seas
I sort through my pieces of wool and used flannels and cloth
And I touch the human in every passerby knowing it’s never enough
I touch the heart that aches with stone burning parallels
I touch the mouths through mountains of victims as the dead sings farwells
I vow to be untouched
It’s not enough to breathe in and exhale my stomach, my liver; my heart
It’s hard enough to wake alert and dress up the rest with the earth’s hardened dirt
Soul tied to a suit and some layers that aren’t mine
But to most it’s fine, some say quite divine
I couldn’t harm a fly; I wish to kill a billion
And so
I harm the self that promises to let things go (let things sow)
Burdened by the death of each solitary season
Hands pressed in pulses pleading to be granted the sights of a hermits reason
Winners war
I’m not sure of what I am feeling, my heart can break, my ego; callous
What keeps me asleep is a range to run
Emotional in wake I bake the sun
Holes of bittersweet spit up, you nuzzling my breast till numb
Turning in, on and off
Tuning off, out and in
I attempt to sing those sensitive songs, I pretend with oneself, playing once upon a time
There’s no where to go as my soul is magnetic to your salvation, even here the space of our bodies deafening
I don’t know exactly why this fight takes flight, ideal is a winners war; no casualties
Freegrandmaa 