My brain is broken.
I can’t write,
I can’t read,
I can’t fuck.
My mind is filled with many thoughts,
Some useless and many horrifying.
Is this the death of my creative mind?
Is this the death of my erotic nature?
Oh, how I wish
I could cut open my head,
Pull out my brain,
And squeeze the content onto the white pages.
I need to feed my desire,
I need to feed my readers,
I need to feed my obsession.
I am unforgettable.
I am one of one.
When you leave me,
You will always look for me.
You will look into their eyes
And try to pull together fragments of me.
Fragments of my love,
Fragments of my voice,
Fragments of my heart.
But all you will find
Is the empty void I have left you with.
And I hope that ruins you.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The bare branches sway as the winter air blows through them.
My body cling to the blanket around me.
My pillow rests my head as my busy eyes watched the trees.
Leaves blow and dance amongst each other.
The wind whispers to me through the cracks in my window.
My unfurnished apartment lays still while my rambunctious kittens dash through it.
My body is weak,
My brain is numb,
But my eyes are fixed on the branches and the leaves.
Winter is here, November has arrived
And I think I just might die.
The Paramour 