don’t U dare

you know, i have every reason to
yes, and i know
and no, i'm not sorry if i dont care
so dont U dare

thou shalt not ruin my day
make that your new commandment
it's mine to keep and yours to share
so dont U dare

you will give up when told to
you will respond when asked
playing in the shadows will get u no where
so dont U dare

i have no choice (when i decide)
i will change my mind as often as i please
call it a menacing grin, or a stony stare
BUT....dont U dare...

words in motion

amazingly accurate with a pinch of something else i can't quite put my finger on

to know you, to know me, to know how and when it will come

i forgot it on the counter, and i'm too lazy to go back and retrieve it
what does it mean, anyways? what it is supposed to symbolize? it's hard for me to specify

pretentiousness...god, how i hate that word and hate the act
disgust, loathe, wrenching guts and bitter vomit
serve it on a platter with a side of sarcasm and call it "le plat du jour"

round and round we go...existential crap...smear it on the walls and call it art

maggots filled cream-puffs...wow...round and round

it's black and it's oozing out of every pore of humanity like the lies u keep telling me again and again

pretty pictures made with pretty paints by a pretty painter who portrays the pretty scene...pretty pathetic

i do wish u were here...but then i like my solitude, so fuck off

you and me

you and me
your life and mine
your path and my path
your point of view and my point of view
close, resembling...but never the same
sharing, but not everything
your lows and my highs
your joys and my sorrows
crossing over at some point, but not completely
tied together by what we do not comprehend
tied together by those choices we didn't know we made







it's never the same

Inspiration

u inspire me to do alot of things i wouldn't normally do
really?
yeah...even though sometimes you call them stupid
well, you do have a tendency...
i know, i know...but you have your share of stupid things as well...but that's not my point
well what is your point?
just that you inspire me, you make me happy, and that i love you
that's nice
i wasn't finished!
ok, ok, i'm sorry....please continue
*sigh* why are we like this?
i don't know
i mean, it's not a bad thing...but it's...
interesting?
yeah, i guess. i'm glad i did this.
i am too.
*hug*

Of scents

ever smelled the scent of a fallen pine cone next to the river bank on a dewy day....through oil on canvas? she could...she could smell the mossy air, the birds chirping somewhere high above the ground, and the smell of wild flowers blooming beneath her feet...the smell of the wet earth rising to greet her nostrils.

she loved smelling things....scents fascinated her....even as a child, she always wanted to smell before she touched or tasted. from the keys of the white galant to the smell of spices coming from the kitchen, or the smell of new paint on the chairs on the first day of class in kindergarten...it was a curiousity that manifested itself at a very early age...the smell of a lake surrounded by mountains, the scent of a lazy cat sleeping on your stomach, of those crayola crayons and markers, the faint smell of cigarette smoke and soap from her grandfather...so many scents, floating around her head. they say that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory...and that's what she most vivdly remembered. the smell of a new house...new halls in a new school...old clothes...re-discovered small perfume bottles that had rolled under the dressing table that brought back eras with a single wiff...an old wooden cabinet that had been shut for years...the scent of her mother's skin when she would lie on her chest and listen to her heart beating...the smell from her father's closet..the cologne he always used...it wasn't a faint scent, but rather a tidal wave of memories washing upon the banks of her consciousness. the pine tree underneath which she and her sister found a yellow-green caterpillar and made a house for it in an empty plastic chocolate box...how the garden smelled after it rained...wet smells, dry smells, spicy smells, old smells, new smells, happy smells, sad smells, smells of "i can't believe i used to wear that and look like that and listen to that music"...smells we miss, that come back to us out of no where, and hit us like no force has hit us ever before...good smells, bad smells...the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath when he was yelling...the smell of blood when she cut herself...the smell of her sister's tears...the tingling feeling in her own nose when she's about to cry...the smell of his neck when he kissed her...the smell he left behind on her bed sheets...the smell of a warm day that's carried within a cool breeze...

she remembers it all...there's no need to bottle this scent...because it's here, and there, and everywhere around her...

she opens her eyes and smiles at the painting.

Zami: A New Spelling of my Name

Being women together was not enough. We were different. Being gay-girls was not enough. We were different. Being Black together was not enough. We were different. Being Black women together was not enough. We were different. Being Black dykes together was not enough. We were different.

~Audre Lorde.

Shivering

(to be read out loud)

The scalding water drips down my back
My face rests against the cold solid tiles
The vapor leaves crystallized droplets on the sink
As I let it all fall sensuously into my inviting mouth

My skin smells like oranges and vanilla
Citrus-y sweetness that accompanies you for miles
I clasp on to a sharp edge as I sway on the brink
Of my deterioration, my mind’s journey down south.

The sound of my moans echo through the walls
My nails scratch the surface of my skin
Sights and smells all jumbled into one
A new creature lurks from within

I gasp for air and I slither across the wet floor
But escape is a futile attempt in this case
The creature isn’t through with me,
The creature wants more.

I claw at the sultry air that surrounds me
Squeezing me tighter within its surreptitious shell
Sighing heavily I try to back away,
As I furtively glance for something to break the spell.

Clandestine mirrors smile back at me now
Slyly they secrete their forces onto my quivering frame
Seductively they chose a spot, selected carefully,
Suddenly disappearing as I,
Shivering,
Call out your name.