Thursday, August 17, 2017

alternate universe at (i know, tumblr, so lame, but, like, selling ourselves is so embarassing, and, at the same time, i'm not ready to give up being a whore.)

Thursday, August 10, 2017

white is my essence.

i feel the crone in you, when she's vindictive, you're
from the middle east somewhere. you say things like, "i wanna

see you suffer like how my children have had to- if i can
see humanity in you, i know you can do it; i know

i can banish my shadow to the other side. i don't have the time to get acquainted
with shadow.

this is me doing committing to a harmful intention and
calling it something else, 'kuz i love a good cop-out, i don't wanna

strip romanticism away from my denial.

this is material manifestation i'm giving you, and you know it. this is when
giving counts as a birthday present, and i don't even want anything

in return.

*fin*. she was talkin' to me, the west. you know how mothers can be.
givin' me grass that ain't candy.

disappointment i guess you see in me when i be
twitchin' my whiskers, dunno

what a hunter is except what ya s'posed to run from. something tells me: it's you. a part
of you unknown to you.
"i don't want any bunnies eatin' my carrots y'hear!"
ya chase me wit ya rifle, than remember some other place

you happen to be in at the same time. "i know you wouldn't eat all of my carrots, though. please come back.
your ears... so cute, so tiny."

ya makin' me naive, me bein'
the silly li'l bunny i am, don't know any better
than to attract myself to danger. i dunno how to avoid

winding up being unrealistic.

white as the man that told ya to get out of here what's yours is mine now, white as milk,
white as snow.

that's me being what the clouds are:
i learned a word from your language and now i'm everywhere, stretchin'
across the blue skies, infinite cotton ball being gently torn. loomin' over.

i can't stop your coming inside me: already tasted you- sweet, i would
swallow forever, named you butterfly.
already looked and, upon doing so, saw

we've shared one another in past lives, meaning, however
it once went down, it helped lead up to my survival today, and it's advantageous of me to seek more of this.

and you as well. you as fucking well.

see? now you got me mad, i used the "f" word. now i'm starin' your tumor down. takin' it away from ya, doin' the dirty work, the surgery. it's not
embrassin' for me to be an MD in front of you, only

in front of the other MDs, so here i go, confidently.
the tumor is the part that doesn't get me. you're its little bitch. it's the part of you that dislikes my
pink lips, pink nipples, when, just the other day, when just

givin you a ride was all it would take for you to get
i love you unconditionally, all my pink parts made me a prize in your eyes.

white is my essence, is what the tumor says to you about me, robust listless n' disillusioned. white makes
the rest of the world toxic, makes us go mad. just bein' honest, broski, is its afterthought.

white is sheltered, yeah you can be loud an' proud 'kuz ya bougie, always
got a roof over ya head no matter how you screw up; to which i reply: never thought i'd see the day when my suffering
would be comparatively overlooked, dismissed as privileged,

'kuz ostracism, my personal cancer, what
has made me a refugee in my own right, don't mean shit next to how you see shit.
my ostracism is too new.
my ancestors, the seed we all sprout from, stole this land and brainwashed me, i'm so privileged that i'll deny that this is actually something that's actually happened.

you put words in my mouth like that. you say you're straightforward...why can't
you just say, "i'm afraid to trust you"? why we always gotta put blame on one another?

love you for everything except your tumor, the way
satan hurt you, papi. wanna nurse you back to health but i'm no mother, just

a witch, and only 'kuz i like adventure.

my discipline is all about removing, binding and burying your tumor, so that we can move on,

dunno how it'll effect the rest of you; hope ya won't become a zombie. we'll see.
offering to the elements, getting myself to let go, and accepting loss, hasn't done
as much as i want it to do. i wanna be completely free of this.

*buried*. and now we are both awake, multi-colored, set free. we are all multi-colored. i see shaman.
love you for everything and even your tumor
now that it's just a pet you once had, papi. (last part was just a dream.) 💔

Monday, August 7, 2017

picture book.

this girl's name is white, five years old, from the suburbs, where all the houses are uncomfortably close to one another. girl you'll still be a virgin even after you fuck a million guys.
house is looked in on but she don't care- too young to be rewired by paranoia. got "circe" tattooed on her ass. got "animal mother" buzzed into her hair.
too young for the news, computer, or thinking money is anything other than stupid. all gets her angry at herself 'kuz she dunno how to pay attention, or how to retain information, unless it's the kind picture books are made of. all she wants anymore is picture books...she knows that's where god is at.

the kinda girl you'd expect to never figure out potty training even though she wasn't a crack baby (per se).
girl that you laugh at because incidentally exposing failure 'kuz inhibition isn't her forte is her ultimate truth.

she looks like meat with hair on it and is that. if you drew her, that's what you'd make of your drawing. example: she talk about sex. she fucks everyone very subtly. does she mean to? (bitch ya know ya mean to.)

she's a brat, at the end of the day, which, to some, means she's abusive.

kinda girl that, while sitting on a toilet, gets distracted, and presents either breast to an imaginary friend coming down from the heavens. an old friend that isn't real anymore. long hair envelopes her- spider choosing her. she likes spiders like she likes doggies.

"i love you, here, lemme show you," she says to him. they take off their glasses to see that they're really seein'.

she's singing about giving him her milk like a lullaby, except nothing comes out of her nipples. this isn't somethin' he did to her. just somethin' she wasn't taught how to do. therefore, she will never be able to give him life, and he will not be able to serve as her reflection. this is somehow how she was taught to communicate and is the only thing she cares about. he wouldn't be mad if he opened his eyes. if he made it to that point he would just know.

girl isn't afraid of going crazy. isn't afraid of death, rape, or selling out. likes the ocean, likes high places. she's pregnant with wondering if, since she's so unafraid of things that seem authentic to her, if it's really fear she feels in regards to anything else.

"just wait momentarily," she says to mr. spider. "it's just been a minute. i just need to warm up. get this thing to work." she's still bein' spun though it's more like being embraced by heaven. he's still there with her.

then she, or, let's be real, i, pull down my diaper in which a stillborn bird, so serene, is bloodied, sayin' "mama". practically a doll with its batteries gone haywire. this isn't my period but i guess hey no biggie seen worse.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

to get me to play catch
you painted me in undesirable colors
so i took my clothes off

Saturday, July 22, 2017

i knew what you looked like before
but now i'll never forget

since i saw you look up at the clouds.

it was something like you were a roll of styrofoam
when i got in there,

as per self defense- wonder if you ever did

get a chance to say sorry to god.
oh, sheltered white girl
standing up for us all against ostracism,

you really do know what real cancer is, what, unlike
the rest of us, monsters really look like.
you really do

meditate everyday;
lifetime achievement award.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

these are the spirits who're dirty for me, "we've

been places you'll never go. we've been everywhere," (have their periods without getting it all over the seat) ,"and what's your number?"

popular girls in the hallway who still count
their sex partners with their fingers.

"who do you think you're allowed to touch? not that i wanna imagine you like that," police raid said. this is who adversary has changed into.

i point at the dead guy who used to hurt me pretty bad, with and without consent. "him?! but he's old enough to be your dad! ew!"

but that's part of the point.

revisiting means i've never let go of
anything, anything ever,
before. skull of absorption.

guess this means either artificiality has redeeming factors or

it doesn't exist
and i've just been mean.

let me say this just today:
i don't *mean* to choose this, you shitty asshole.

i know you're interviewing me, over there- i can
see the whites of your eyes. so, i repeat:
don't *mean* to
choose this, shitty shithead,

so you don't need to tell me to go die or eat shit over it.

cock piss shit fuck dick.

you disappoint me.
i want my darling daughter back.
i could die if i wanna is how serious
my illness is. you can't picture it/ you're just
jealous is all,

it has nothing to do with me not doing my
homework. just

that i didn't get it;
i don't know how to read and instructions are stupid,
ugly bozo.

i only think in

since i think only in people,
let me introduce you to them.

here are the people that i am a matriarch of:
01. correct answer: b
02. correct answer: a
03. correct answer: d, all of the above
04. only correct answers;

do you see? see? look. open your mind. look.

if you knew that i can't look at things 'kuz
it hurts,
you'd recognize me as resilient/ wonder why
i'm not out-and-out violent.

you're not looking really like you claim to be doing