It's not me, It's you

My skin, my shirt, my skirt, my shoes
“Your begging them to look at you”
My hair, My ass, My mouth, My tongue
“It’s harmless, he’s just having fun”
My work, my street, my apartment
“You should take it as a compliment”
I’m scared, I’m angry, I’m anxious, I’m sad
“Oh stop whining it’s not that bad”
Refuse abuse, Detail the damage
“Go in the kitchen and make me a sandwich”
Fighting back, Taking a stand
“She just needs to get a man”
Target, Victim, Battered, Dead
“She probably shouldn’t have worn red”

Dark Goddess

I want to fight like I want to fuck
Unfettered and unstoppable
With inherent devastation
Unequaled and untoppleable
I am the Alpha activated
Unfed and untameable
My hunger, underestimated
Unfurled and now unnameable
Brace yourselves for ecstasy
Unseen and undefined
The pain will bring a rhapsody
Unknown and unrefined
Should you hope to tame me
Understand you’ll be unwon
For those who wish to claim me
Are undeniably undone

A Dream Repeating

Threaded fingers, mesmerized
Lost within your ravenous eyes
Bodies moving to a rhythm
That makes trespasses feel forgiven

Profoundly feeling this piece of time
Within my skin and up my spine
Soft and hard inside and out
A rapture that can kill the doubt

Soaked in moments quickly fleeting
A flame that bursts, a dream repeating
Collapse into a new addiction
That transcends life’s mundane condition

Fragmented

I'm not used to this,
the feeling of an open wound
hemorrhaging and yearning for unguent calm
The feeling of a mannequin left naked in a main street window
The sagging wallpaper threatening to fall and expose my scribbles of madness
to a room full of prim and pomp
The heat leaves me writhing my clothes
The anxiety no longer needs this costume
The stray hair loosened from my meticulous bun,
savagely hanging, mocking
My sweet smile and tight neck challenge one another
The spreading pink hue of realization
emblazoned on my neck and chest
The betrayal of it all sinks deep inside

"Is anyone else warm?" has various meanings right now

'Can anyone else admit that playing a role for the sake of being liked and accepted is absolute fuckery and an abhorrent deviation of human nature?'
The wallpaper holds much more effectively then my tongue despite it's age, and mine.
I slip, I expose to them a true taste of who I really am.

The gasps are amusing, the sudden exodus a hilarity. The remaining solitude is golden.

Just the evening shadows and I, the way the universe intended.

No Survivors

A freshly moistened lip a dilated pupil A slightly squinting yet still sparkling eye A firm hand on a soft form Curves traced with care, with wanting The memorization of skin The bumps, the scars cradled, caressed, worshipped Devoted to the moment, present for this love alone The drinking in and pouring out The emptying, the filling The bursting, the gushing When noses, eyes, mouths and ears all make way for the skin When the world ends and begins again and there are no survivors