Great Escape

Great Escape

Most girls are scared to come within 5 inches of my mind,
And are even more afraid to let me within 10 inches of their hearts
But our bodies always intertwine
And she cums within millimeters of my mouth
 And she lets me within 8 inches of her uterus, and only cotton bed sheets divide us.
We fuck ‘til the sun leaves footprints across the sky,
And we fuck like there’s no tomorrow, like the days never end.
We fuck like her cycle it, feels like it lasts forever.
We fuck like fire escapes and vacations and get-away vehicles.
We fuck until the world leaves silently.
We fuck on red lights and stop signs.
We fuck like she's fetching water in my well.
We fuck like we don’t have to work in the mornings.
We fuck like we yearn to love, deeply, passionately, fast, slow, so real.
We fuck and she cums hard and harder the next.
We fuck until we can, come like springtime and we do.
We fuck, we do, we scratch, we kiss, we touch; we never lay still for too long.
We, fuck like we’re reinventing the meaning of the word fuck.
We fuck like I’m reaching for her ribs through her insides.
We, fuck, like she’s irrigating a garden that grows inside of me.
Strip me of these clothes, these expectations, these stigmas.
Baby, make a woman out of me.

Sweet Dream, Bedtime Terror

Sweet Dream, Bedtime Terror

I know what it feels like to be kissed by a butterfly…
To be kissed by something so beautiful, something so free, and so diverse, that your cheek pushes back desperately against it,
With an equal and opposite force
Just so that you can feel the soft firmness of those lips
Press and sink into your jawbone
Eyes closed, smelling the scent of flowers and green,
Feeling the velvet wings flap against your skin,
Exhaling with a faint vibrato, you release yourself
With the kiss still tingling, lingering on your mind
You open your eyes, just to watch it flutter away.
You desire and long and yearn for it to stay
But you curl your bottom lip under your front teeth
And hold a gun up to your aspiration.
Don’t you dare say anything.
How dare you cage anything with wings.
It was always meant to fly away…but I’m grateful to have even felt it
Because I know what it feels like to be kissed by a moth.
To be touched by something so hideous, and so masculine
That you jerk away from it
So fast that the elasticity of your jaws, is too slow to keep up with your cheek bones,
So the inner flesh slaps the outside of your teeth.
To try to wipe it away, so hard that you burn and discolor your face
And the feeling of its hairy figure lies deep, like a dimple.
Disgust sits on your tongue, and you gag as you attempt to swallow your spit.
Your eyes wide open, you stare it down, not up and down, just down.
Breath locked in chest
Hoping, wishing, praying for it to fly away,
And it does, because something so contagiously ill and sick HAS to go spread its infection elsewhere
And ugly someone else’s beautiful innocence
And when it is done, when it has soured and curdled your dreams,
When it has taken your intestines and shaken them in closed fists it leaves promptly
And you breathe heavily,
But you won’t tell. You won’t ever tell.
You’re too shocked, and too scared to say anything,
And too broken to piece it all together.
How dare you expose such embarrassment.
How dare you admit to such weak vulnerability.
Stories so obnoxious should be kept in a book, and the pages should only be used to catch tears as they fall, but never read aloud
Because those bedtime stories often cause bedtime terrors.
So when a little girl looks up at you, and asks you what happened that day,
I want you to look her in the eyes, smile, like nothing ever happened, and say it flew away.

Letter to my Unborn

If I ever have a daughter,
I promise to teach her
To love herself
All of herself,
From the tippy top of her head,
To the bottom of her innocent feet,
And back up again,
Starting with her hair follicles
Her natural hair follicles,
And if she ever decides to burn them,
Coat them with artificial colors,
Or hide them under long straight Indian locks,
I'll know that it was her choice,
And that she was not ambushed by the pretty little portrait of white America
Because she too is America.

Ode to Intoxicated Downtown Girls

Ode to Intoxicated Downtown Girls

Downtown girls, poured into glass windows
Swaying on our laps, leaving home far
Glued to the stars, as we fly the cars
High up in the clouds, no key in the ignition
No need for plane tickets, no wings on our doors
Fire red kisses from the rainbow-trailing whores,
Laughs lay quietly over layers of crickets
Noise under our voices, we try not to listen
Downtown girls wearing filter-ash heels
Chalk coated tongues from the star shaped pills
Aiming for the hills, headed for the north
Skies like the Fourth, fog in the rear.
Party for the tears, party for the fears,
Party for the zombies with the concrete in their ears
Who’ve all turned into stone, null to the bone
Ode to the women, the women with the leggings,
The lust filled bras, and the thrill seeking lashes
Downtown girls, but Venus is the mission
UFO lights, hover over their stages
Strippers rip the doors from the rooms and the cages
Yellow wallpaper, fallen through the ages
We fall to their legs, but never say we fell
We lure their legs open but their arms cannot be held
Hands cannot be held; love cannot be felt, so we never say we fell
Too fast, for the slow, love making pace
Snapshots in our minds of addiction on their face
Money is a race; fame is a blessing
Demons keep testing but their minds have erased
So hail to the Based, they fall to their knees
Hail to the stars, the clouds, and the trees
Hell to the fathers with the dead beaten seeds
Hell to the daughters with a hundred dirty deeds
Ode to their knees, scarred from the crawls
Feining for a fix ‘til the doctors make the call
5 in the morning, hands between their thighs,
Shivering from the cold as they whisper their goodbyes.
The trip back home, always dreaded in their eyes
Downtown girls, halos on their heads
Wings on their backs, tails between their legs


*they/their=downtown girls
*we=narrator

The Song of Myself

I celebrate myself, and I sing myself.

I am the skin, the drum, the kinks of Africa.

I am the light shining through the clouds

With pride like Twin towers, tall but can easily fall.

I am one million flaws and infinite perfections,

For I, am me.

Half human, half god, and whole artist,

The most beautiful mistake this world has ever seen

The lawyer, the doctor, the teacher

The liar, the gambler, the cheater

Rip the skin away from my chest and see there ain’t no cage to protect my heart.

I am everything I swore I never would be

My ego, my hypocrisy, my image, and my misogyny.

I am the person staring back at the mirror but inside me is something else

Scratching the insides of my bones in an attempt to free itself.

Smoke from the purple lips of a black woman

Blood from a black man’s burdens

Accept me and love my imperfections in sections

So when we piece them together I will be beautiful in your eyes.

Take me as I am and never scrape and break my silhouette so that it fits your mold.

I am fuck you for I love you sounds too vulnerable.

Hold my hands and look into the eyes of absence yet substance.

Don’t attempt to figure me out through trial and error.

I am a slave to time, but my first love is procrastination,

So at nights I run away to waste the nights and chase the sunrise.

I let you see the truth in you.

Let me sing to you, for I sing myself.

The song of myself.