Rinse, Repeat (2/24/12)

Recycled words tend to mean something when they don’t mean a thing
Recycled words like trash rolled down the highway
Used up and shriveled over like the ones you threw my way
Recycled words slapped through the next one’s skull
Improper navigation, no way to find the sweet origin and squeeze each letter from above.
Adornment, luxury, desire, frustration
All representing the structure of our previous relation.
Outraged and defeated, I retreated to my hole
Wondering how I could ever think my words would bring you home.
So each distasteful memory
shed out ancient disposal as opposed to the joyous scripture your partner read
It was worthless, a fretted incident.
Recycled words like recycled dreams,
Upsetting the stomach of anticipated things.
Like meeting the future and greeting it with a smile
Freeing my inner perceptions and aiming them in your direction,
Without another vile human to mislead either side.
But why would I? “Too far ahead,” says consultants and friends,
Nevertheless you still hold the lease to rent the space in my head.
Recycled words never felt so raw, a dead bird with the face cut off.
The face and fixture of what once was and could be,
Ripped apart and torn to pieces, shriveled up paper with a messed up thesis.
Emotional curse, dark clouds all around
Drown…drown…drown.

"Now" In July (2012)

Visualizations of a woman making it on her own
Ownership of self, self-delusional expectations of betterment
Better sweat, always perspired with joyous flings set on different strings
Another tone among other things.
Watching other people’s oxy levels increase and bubbles of magic never decease
doesn’t allow my own space to be free in your love.
I want to condense myself into a gas that inflates my own mind with growth
Choking the ideas and aggravating assumptions of lustful eyes and family ties.
Size me up and break down my skeleton to the core of its destruction
A human suffering under the pressure points, pushing her own buttons.
We don’t need to be a tragedy
I want to see squares and triangles stay with me or let me be
No in betweens, these accumulating treasures are measured in the grief that will be when I set them free
I want to break down the paradigms and paradoxes of freedom in shackles
I want to examine the universe at all angles and entangle myself within your intestinal bangles
My stomach is forever a place for you to throw your misinterpreted mold
Mildew green and stuck on the walls of myself, I trail off track looking for a spot to dispose of your ungracious grace and pasteurized slack.

Insecurity- Unfinished

There was a girl with a droopy nose, covering her lips like a flamingo
Pink and white as ever made
Yoga retreat, the quiet made her day complete
In autumn leaves, brown and green
The lemons of life don’t grow on her trees
There was a girl with a droopy nose, covering her lips like a flamingo
Her insecurity secured by tightly criss-crossed fists
The crowd thought it was merely politeness
Her feet faced forward because somehow she knew where she was headed in moments of crisis
There was a girl with a droopy nose, covering her lips like a flamingo
Her moldy brown Puma bag covered her chest,
carrying all her false passions and pretentious radioactive presets
The peace deal Reality made with her just couldn’t cut the sleaze loose
X ray vision deem her inadequate of hiding what’s under her sleeves
But her eyes won’t give a truce
There was a girl with a droopy nose, covering her lips like a flamingo
Her white K-Swiss looking misfits smuggled themselves out the double doors of train wreckage
Onto the street, she’s making the bed wet with tears of momma’s opening
She came from heat, the dog’s natural instinct, “love-child”. Love, child. To child, with love.