The Raven

I saw a dead raven today.

It was night and I was rushing to get to my bus

And I almost stepped on it.

Its body was upright,

Legs pointing to the trees above.

In the trees,

Many ravens stood as if to blend into the dark sky.

My first reaction was shock.

My second reaction was sadness.

My third reaction was peace.

Once the calm of the situation set in within me,

The ravens from above began to cry.

It was a heartbreaking cry, but it soothed me.

Like the sweet voice of a baby’s mother, cooing and cooing.

Oh, how I pity that raven

For dying in peace with their fellow kin surrounding and mourning them.

The raven is apart of the sky now

And soon be apart of the earth.

Is it sad? Yes.

Is it disturbing that I found the idea of a dead raven on the sidewalk calming? Yes, indeed.

But, it’s just have I make peace with the world and the things going on within it.

A Product of You

Whoever is there above,

Whoever thought of me,

Created me,

And produced me,

I want to give my thanks.

Thank you for my kindness.

My heart is full of love and I am always willing to give it out.

Thank you for my mind.

It produces powerful thoughts and emotions and wholesome poetry.

Thank you for my libido.

It drives me and my partners insane, but it is what builds and drives my passion.

Thank you for my impulsivity.

I have made great memories, great opportunities and great changes due to it.

Lastly,

Thank you for my otherness.

I am a being of another world, 

I am a being destined to cause harm or peace.

I am a product of you, higher being.

Haunting

He haunts me.

The idea of him, of us, tortures my daily life.

I think about him when the morning light hits my eyes.

I feel him when my bed is empty.

I see him all over my apartment, even if he’s miles away.

It’s killing me because I don’t have him.

I don’t have him in my embrace and it is burning me alive.

I await for a call, a text, every day like a dog waiting for their own to come back from a deadly war.

You are so merged into my life

That I forget I even have one.

Your absent touch eats alive at my skin and it burns.

I want to rip away parts of me that are infected by your presence.

I want to hug you and carve my name into your flesh, as you do mine.

I want to scream and curse you for making me this way,

This desperate and this inhumane.

I want to swallow you whole so you can reside within me for eternity and beyond.

I want this haunting to end and for us to finally become one.

A Thin Line

For me, the lines between love and obsession has always been blurred. I never understood the difference until my first romantic encounter. The first boy I’ve ever been obsessed with was named Ronald. He was a well known boy in at my high school. He spotted me, he asked one of my friends for my number and the rest is history. He’s the first boy I had created feelings for and he’s the first boy to ever betray me. The full history of our relationship is long and shows how idoitic and naïve I was. I imagined having kids with him, going to the same college as him, I revolved my entire future around him. 

Luckily, obsession’s cloak began to fall and I realized that he was only an obsession. It came to me, when his face was between my thighs, that I never actually liked him. I was just obsessed with who he could be, who I wanted him to be. The feelings I thought I had for him were created by me, in my mind, to hide my obsession. That’s when disgust came in. One interesting thing about obsession is its relation to disgust. I remember looking down at Ronald during the act. His tongue was becoming well acquainted with my left labia and he seemed to be enjoying himself. But I wasn’t enjoying it at all. My idealized version of him had worn off and he was just a plain, useless boy. He was never special, I just wanted him to be in my head. 

Wants and Needs

Fuck,

I don’t know what I wanna do.

I want to love,

I want to cry,

I want to bleed.

I want to wear silk dresses 

And enjoy the luxuries of life.

I want to cut the throats of those who have hurt me,

And watch them as they beg, pled for forgiveness.

I want to cut up fresh fruit and hand feed it to my lover.

I want to write and live in my delusional, sick thoughts.

I don’t want to work,

I don’t want to interact with other people;

I don’t want to cry unless it benefits my works.

I want to live my life as an artist

Without all the unnecessary stress and suffering of living a human life.

What Am I?

I am a woman who loves erotic horror,

Who enjoys seeing blood drip off of a curved body.

I am a woman who loves soft material,

Who prefers cashmere wool over silk fiber.

I am a woman who loves nature,

Who dries her dying flowers so a way to return it back to Earth.

I am a being who enjoys and embraces horror,

Who believes terror is ethereal.

I am a being who loves her own suffering,

Who cries and screams for enjoyment.

I am a being who doesn’t experience real emotions,

Who can easily love someone one minute and hate them the next.

I am something otherworldly,

Something that isn’t quite right.

I am something unnatural,

Something that can predict the future or reveal the truth through dreams.

I am something prodigious,

Something that is capable of creating authentic beauty

And something that is capable of creating pure savagery.

High Poetry #1

I love love.
Love is a key aspect of my horrific being.
I grew up learning my unlimited amount of love should be saved.
It is a sacred gift.
However, 
The unlimited amount of stored love can become overwhelming.
It leads to my common feelings of loneliness and hopelessness.
So, 
I just give it out.
I give it out romantically by sharing heartfelt kisses with my lovers.
I give it out platonically by listening, admiring and cheering those I allow close.
I give it out internally by listening to my spirit and mind the first time.
I give it out exteriorly by showing kindness and love to the things around me, 
Whether I want to or not.
Don’t be fooled,
I am still a deeply disturbed woman,
But my kindness and love is a powerful, maternal force within me.
The world is still a cruel, heartless place,
But love and the possibility of love makes it worth living. 

C.D.

Baby.

You’re my baby, my darling, my lover.

My body aches for you,

My bed feels empty and cold without you.

My soft interior peaks out only for you.

You are my partner,

Nobody compares to you.

I worship you as if you were a God,

My God.

My body was made for you 

To kiss,

To hold,

To grab,

To bend.

I am in my truest form 

When I am with you,

My baby.

Sunny Days

On sunny days,
I crawl out of bed
And dress in my finest clothes.
I walk, barefoot,
From my room,
To the kitchen,
To the front door.
My feet takes in and embrace the debris on the concrete.
My body reacts, but my mind takes it all in.
I keep walking.
The cold concrete turns into rough, but smooth grass 
And my toes curl.
I keep walking.
The sun dances on my brown skin
And my shoulders drop.
I feel
Nothing.
My body isn’t of my own anymore
And my mind, blindly tries to take control.
I keep walking.
My tongue tastes sweet 
And I remember days of baking and cinnamon buns.
My mom’s aura is felt 
And I completely collapse onto the rough, but smooth grass.
My head feels dizzy,
My ears hear my neighbors rushing towards me and calling for help.
My tongue tastes blood as it has collided with my teeth,
My fingers and arms are going numb
And my revealed skin embraces the grass below and the sun above.

But all my attention is going towards the comforts my mom can only produce.

Twenty

Twenty.
I am Twenty years old.
I have inhabited this Earth for 7,305 days.

I cannot look back onto my life without crying.
I have been through some shit
And I will continue to go through shit.
I still vividly remember crying and hoping for things to be better,
For things to change.
And It has.

As I write this, with tears in my eyes,
I am sitting on my black couch,
In my little apartment.
My cats, Logan and Lacy,
Are laying next to me,
Watching the show I have on my tv.

I still wish to reside within my mother’s womb so I can be protected from the harsh world.
I still wish several things could be different.
I still wish I could change the past and fix my mistakes.
But it helped me get to this point in my life.

This past year,
I have realized my potential.
I am capable of great, outstanding things,
I am capable of ruining everything around me with no remorse.
I enjoy my own company.
I enjoy losing my absolute mind and picking myself back up.
I enjoy chao, but I am starting to like peace.

As I start this new decade and enter my twenties,
I realize I am actively changing and developing.
I am taking the steps to take care of myself and those around me.
I can say that I do love myself and those around me.

Living is an art
And I plan to create a masterpiece.