Odyssey


Concepts of you
Drizzle through my mind
As sea foam

Bubbling up
Youre raging salt
To crash and drown

To consume
And swallow
Through the mouth of the deep

And we sink
To blacks depth
Like urchins.

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Changes


 

Shut my mouth
Hold my tongue
Watch my self control run

Close my eyes
Throat and lungs
Love me, so deaf and dumb

If I stayed
Still, til your done
Would you ever bring yourself to come

In this way
I know, you’ve won
I’m not who I was.

Dwelling


 

This wait
Leaves me sedate
With all the things I anticipate

Be it an hour
Be it a day
Its seems that time holds no sway

Should I come
Should I go
Its seems no place I truly know

And so I marvel
And stand in place
As I live to be amazed

Places


 
I hold a spot
Neat and small
Inside my consciousness

I curl into
The tiny hole
And chant my graciousness

This solitary
Inanimate world
Fills with my spaciousness

I am so glad
To know
Where my place is.

Insignificance


I am not valued.

“That’s not true,
She loves you”
As soon as She;
finds someone better,
She’ll be gone.

“You think;
So little,
of Yourself.”

It is all I learned.

“How do you know;
That you mean,
So little?”

The choices;
the people in,
My life made.

Is all;
the evidence,
it takes.

Leftovers


 

I’ve been here,
All along,
Inside your fridge

Your hands move,
Past me,
Over me,
Around me

Yours eyes look,
Above me
Below me,
Through me

Until finally,
Before I can sour
You retrieve me

Not before,
Everything else
that is good
Is gone.

You warm me up
Scarf me down
Consume me
Like Leftovers

Dandelion


 

With my yellow petals,
And my healthy stem,
I was certain of
who I am

Around my soil,
Bigger flowers grew,
But to myself
I was ever true

A dandelion
Small but lovely,
I was sure
to believe

Till a gardener,
Came to pluck me,
Only to say,
I was a weed.

First Time


I recall the sleepy smell of your sex;

beckoning to me.

The heat has risen to this urgent muscle,

that is flexing with selfishness.

I fear your desire,

how it will taste,

how it will take,

but the utmost horrifying prospect being,

how it will make me feel.

I have been taught not to entrust others,

with my being.

Above all else,

especially not with my sexuality,

You are calling my mouth,

pleading with it

“Oh, Fuck.”

And so,

my throat mercifully

-fucks you.

All that hurts me now is-

the disinterest.