I didn’t want to write about you.
but here you are again. please,
this time just turn me away
even if I fight.
its a tragedy to think you belong to me.
I didn’t want to write about you.
but here you are again. please,
this time just turn me away
even if I fight.
its a tragedy to think you belong to me.
I made friends with jealousy today
we sat with my sketchbook open
and my cell phone in hand
my fingers threatening to accuse and blame
but I had a conversation instead
because it had me sleeping restlessly
pushing to a revelation:
seeing her made me realize
that I no longer need the illusions
that I am ready to validate myself from within.
woke up in that mood
today i hate you temporarily.
I forgotten love. i missed what you said about compassion.
knowing browsing facebook will amplify my feelings of isolation
today i am comforted by dark clouds.
our very essence
our means of fulfillment
is to create
the art of letting go
is positive creation.
and when you recognize yourself
as co creator
you realize
that you haven’t missed a thing
you’re just in time, you made it.
we all looked at each other
with that kind of knowing
that kind of knowing that women have with each other
that psychic link that we deny
but i know that you know that i know what you know.
autobiographies with sexual themes and self exploration exercises make for playful erotic cut and paste poems.
this is the first time in a long time that i am not out on a saturday. no friends, no parties. just me cutting and pasting dirty poems saving myself from boredom, soothing my anxiety of a newly jobless self.
i learned i need support in my creative pursuits.
and there is only change
and that maybe all we had had in common was drugs
and popularity means nothing
and i only slept with that guy because
we were intoxicated
and that romance was the space between my drama and his
and the only way to tolerate each others lack of commitment
was through rolling a joint
C.