liberation

if i swear off women for good
im swearing off you
and how we groove
half clumsily
hot and heavy
some tension
sweet smiles and
sex eyes

if i swear women for good
im swearing off you
and how we speak
in circles
traveling to uncharted areas
pushing through past
mistakes
and way too much
heartbreak
lets be honest
youre close

if i swear off women for good
im swearing off you
and the way you look at me
head cocked to one side
you know my story
softest eyes
testing me
see straight through to
the meat
im not looking away

if i swear off women for good
im swearing off you
and those arms of yours
open them and
im undone
all the little pieces
youre holding together
like its important
that im together...
im not together
if i pout my lips
just so and give you
one look, you just
know im breaking
and hold on
a little more

if i swear off women for good
im swearing off you
and everything that i
love to feel
and hate to feel
especially those lips
my god...
because im not sure
where ill go
when youve sworn off me

'when i graduate'
she says...
'i want to do it all'
she slides lazily across these words
speaking prophetically about her
dreams
dreaming poetically about her days
spent drinking late into the night
her dollars short
now that shes grown folks
fears of fantasies
passing by
everything disillusioned,
alien substances bring the onset
of paranoia
her lips ramble as prattle
drips from her mouth,
but nonsense?
she longs for moments far
further than her head
from her pillow
for times
marked with beauty and success
yet she is but a star
in a galaxy too young
for us to see

the cars were cold. her scars were still showing. the rain had coated everything with a sort of wet grime. before the sky changed the scalpel had shone brightly. a saving star. perhaps the wish should have been used for something miniscule. ice cream on an august afternoon or change for the bus fare. mothers always remember things like school lunches and jackets for the first season changes when its not quite warm enough for short sleeves. there's this bond you come to expect. expectations ruin beauty. that warm little sense of accomplishment you cling to at night, giving your existence value, leading you along the path of self-reliance. that feeling you manipulate into a self-serving nine step esteem boost. why is it that the creation of love, for love, regardless of what the motive is always becomes a tragedy. all parties emotionally crippled, trying to back step out of the trap. ignorantly continuing into it.

It started when I left in July. It was hot that night. The breeze had died along with my reason. All that was left was the sweltering passion. I was trying to make a clean break, but she was crying and begging me not to go. Lines had been drawn and crossed and erased and redrawn, I was breaking down. Each time she asked me to stay I loved her a little more. I don't know if that was possible. She held me under for so long; things were starting to fade. All of my aspirations and desires, my purpose, my sense of self. No, if I just hold my breath a little longer I can make it to the surface. I just have to fight it. I just have to turn it off. I can't love her. I don't love her.
Sultry thickness snagged by icy stares, cold words. I was shutting her out. Denying her stay. Hating everything she was, what she did to me. The noises stopped. I reached to open my car door. This beautiful love. This overwhelming emotion. This constant distress, this furious self-loathing, always so strong I could taste it. Hostility on my tongue reminding me of times when I indulged my cravings to the point of vomiting. Her hand on my arm began a chain reaction. I noticed a slight humming...From her? No, I was reeling. Signals and brain synapses sending interference. Memories were flooding the car. The last time we fucked...No, made love. Partaking sweetly of souls. Serenely her touch drained me.
Freeze. I free myself from her grasp. She's on the ground now. Bowing on both knees, praying. Fucking holy mother. Still this humming and trembling now. I'm in my bag on the passenger's seat. I'm cold. The humming is driving my hand deeper. I can't see or hear anything anymore. I'm relying on instinct. My hand is throbbing, gripping the handle so tightly. I turn and squeeze the trigger ever so slowly thinking maybe it would ease the blow. Kiss her head real easy. Humming. No bang, no scream. My body is throbbing. I'm thinking of putting her in the backseat now. My wife...Not making decisions. I'm driving. I close the door and turn on the air. I never felt warm again.

feigned interests and
misguided opinions
woes and gripes
woes on life
whoa
get it right my love
this type of girl gets under
and makes me wonder
should i like her or
sit down and write
all of her faults next
to mine
i barely lie on this
line
hold on, this is real
my past lives have shown
me the way to approach
war and make peace,
to cease fire and love
each trial and error i meet
so why cant my people see
im on the next level
not holy, but pushing
the seed, the light, the word
seeking the blind and leading
them with a point
in mind
its fine if you dont
have the time to hear
the passion thats mine
that youre so young and
that the world is too big
the burden is too heavy
the price is too great
for knowledge?
you called with this tone
you called me with this
history
wanting me to follow you off track
assuming you know where
my head is at
though we met only a moment
ago
slow down love
so much room for you
to grow

i masturbated twice when i thought about you
not just because you're beautiful
but because of the longing i have for
the wholeness and the joy i once felt
and i know its wrong of me to expect that of you
but all of my misconceptions and lacking
forces me into the fantasy that you hold

love you for hating me

my love for you runs deep
like not exactly surface wounds
that sever arteries you need
to live.

my love for you is vast
like the ocean that swallows
your come and then spits
you onto the beautiful
wasteland.
leaving you with a mouthful
of sand

my love for you is sick and sexy
maybe even masochistic because
its killing me when you
fuck me over and over
with your full lips
and sharp prick
that's so seductively
deflating me.

i know i'll never be
what you want.
me with my breasts,
full of the most bitter
resentment.
i know you'll never take
me. you with your
general politeness and
false niceties.
why don't you
love me?

i tried not to be me.
i tried not to do this
loving you consequently.
where has it gotten me?
you fucking tease me and
love me and make me
want to throw up
this sugary sweet french
kissing facade because
i hate you
for not wanting me.