Written Word

 Effortless

She's so effortless, she doesn't even know—
Keeps me coming back for more,
Keeps me knocking at her door.
She's so effortless, she doesn't even know—
Her gaze is where it's at,
She sways like a tabby cat.
She's so effortless, she doesn't even know—
I don't know what to do,
But I know I'm into you.

Isle of Sappho

How do I tell you I want to see you naked?

How do I let you know I want to take off your clothes?

I’m curious of your femininity—

The shape of your breasts,

The scent of your hair,

The taste of your lips—

So sweet to kiss.

How do I tell you I want you?

This feeling’s so new—

I’ve never liked a woman the way I like you.

In typical fashion, I bare myself to paper.

Pen as my witness, I desire your flesh.

End Notes

And now we resort to name-calling.

And how I've turned from brat to bitch—

And how you've turned from daddy to ditched—

I suppose I've finally grown up.

 

Confessions 

Wow, so amazing  

So amazing you are

You are with your pretty red hair
Your pretty red hair and your rosy red cheeks
Your rosy red cheeks are lovely enough to eat 

— 

I love to eat. 

Viscera

What do you look like inside yourself?
Where are the scars you bare?
What are the things you try to hide?
When you look inside, do you cry?
What do you look like inside yourself?
What is it that you fear?
What do you look like inside yourself?
I think you know your fears.
—
Bare yourself, bare your soul—
Naked, exposed to the unknown.
Look at yourself from the inside, baby—
Look to see who cares.
—
I want to see inside of you,
Feel inside of me.
I want to feel inside of you,
Learn what makes you real.
—
The sight of you, inside of me
What makes you real?
What makes me feel?

These Days

These days I have only 10 minutes to write.
These days I cannot put up a fight.
These days I am not willing to lose.
These days I cannot pick or choose.
These days I barely recognize my life.
These days I remember I was almost a wife.
These days I feel rather confused.
These days I think I acted too soon.
These days I know I did the right thing.
These days I know I am ready to win.
I love you.

Wonderful Someone, You

I know this someone wonderful—

Really, it’s a shame.

This someone is too wonderful—

You all probably know someone quite the same.

The sort that is so wonderful—so beautiful and deep—

Who dips down far into your soul—

Who grabs it and runs for miles and miles—miles and miles—

Miles until it’s hard to stop—

You’ve chased so far and you want your reward.

But, your reward was already there to start.

Your reward is the years you’ll be parts of a whole.

At least I hope.

You’re the best in so many ways.

And you’re right, it’s what’s in between the fucks and sucks, sweet friend.

Between is where your Wonderful does play.

Knowing

To know what it means to desire—to yearn.

To know what it means to hate—to loath.

To know what it means to use—to exploit.

To know what it means to lust—to crave.

To know what it means to fail—to lose.

To know what it means to try—to endeavor.

To know what it means—so fuck me, please.

I know what it means—or part of it, at least.

I know what you need—you need to feel me.

I know what it means—we’re weak and carnal.

I know what you need—I want it, too.

I know what it means—I’ll fuck you, too.

I know what you need—at least I think.

I know what it means—we’re using each other.

I know what you need—use me, please.

I know what you need—use me, please.

I know what you need—use me, please.

To know what it means to be pathetic.

To know what it means to be hurt.

To know what it means to be desperate.

To know what it means to be destitute.

To know what it means to be nothing.

To know what it means—I know what it means.

To know what it means—you know what it means?

To know what it means—I know what it means.

I know what you want—you want to forget.

I know what you want—you want to cum.

I know what you want—you want to feel.

I know what you want—you want to leave.

You know what it means—it means I’m your slut.

You know what it means—it means you’ll get what you want.

You know what it means—it means the feeling is mutual.

You know what it means—it means you’re my slut.

You know what it means—it means you’re my toy.

You know what it means—it means we’re made for each other. For now.

Dead Flowers

 

I thought I was strong. This week has proved to me that it's so easy to slip back into the idea--the dream--of what we could be. I wasted days slipping in out of this dream-like state, being wined, dined and flowered by the one I called my "soil mate." We were daisies; our roots intertwined; one day we'd bloom together and drop our seeds in the fertile soil of our life--we'd grow a family. We had our music; we complemented each others style and the best songs we wrote were the ones we wrote together. We were beautiful, at some point in time... we truly were. Now what? Time has withered out vibrant summer petals and our one seed never had a chance to grow. We've been yanked from our fertile soil and tossed aside to compost; our roots pulled from each other and from ourselves. Maybe I'll make a successful transplant...I've been told I have a green thumb...I hope you do too.

Holding Pattern

I feel like I’ve been here before.

I feel like I shouldn’t be.

I feel like a mused on a lie.

I feel like I mused on a lie.

Show me the way you want it to be.

Show me the way you want it to end.

Show me. Please, show me.

Show me. Please, show me.

Show me, show me, show me.

When will the fire subside?

When will the burning die?

How can I make it through?

How can I make it with you by my side?

How can a show you I do care inside?

It must be too late.

It must dry and die.

The life is consumed.

The energy is fried.

Show me the way you want it to be.

Show me the way you want it to end.

Show me. Please, show me.

Show me. Please, show me.

Show me, show me, show me.

I feel like I cannot die.

I feel like I’m able to fly.

I do feel invincible.

I do feel I’m going to cry.

I think it’s too late.

I think it’s our fate.

I think I’ve messed up.

I’ve dressed it all up.

Show me the way you want it to be.

Show me the way you want it to end.

Show me. Please, show me.

Show me. Please, show me.

Show me, show me, show me.

I feel like I’ve been here before.

I feel like I cannot win.

I feel that I can’t fix the mistakes I’ve made.

I feel like I’ve mused on a lie.