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.
Wake me up from this wicked dream with a kiss.
Grab me,
And drag me
To the other side of the bed.
Fuck me until I’m weak,
Love me until I’m sick.
Cover me in soft, fresh linens
And bring me breakfast in bed.
My body is yours to pull and twist.
Give me a child so I can end this everlasting nightmare
and create peace within me.
My darling, I am your rag doll
And I’d do anything to please you.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The Paramour 