Men

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Oh I don’t hate men, please no

It’s just that sometimes I dream

Of stabbing them in their throats

And chopping it off their thighs

Accidentally spilling acid on them

And gouging out their eyes

And leaving the bodies to writhe and die

It’s nothing personal, just that I

Can’t help myself at times

When they’re simply asking for it

Those egotistical pieces of shit

But oh I don’t hate men, no

Not all men

An Ode to The Ocean

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You beautiful monster
Drifting careful in a slumber
Deeper than your thunder, how?
You deadly lover
Riding warriors on your back
Giver of life
Your ripples of anger
Setting in action only destruction
You magnanimous creature of wonder
How?
Your waters a thing of horror
Where do you keep your love
Does it come and then leave
Like your tides on days of glee
Where do you keep your love
Your barren surface deludes my ignorant, how?
Shall I bow down?
Your towers of liquid, send my blood to shivers
In these fragile bones, my heart booms
With warnings and rules
Your belly is a “valley of doom”
But I see no doom, how?
You astounding monster,
Sitting in the eye of the storm you conjure
You’re the chaos inside of a silent calm, how?
You show me blue
Another trick you use
To lure and seduce
Don’t seduce my mind
You know not how it weaves poetry for you
You’re the lover I want to deny
I run my fingers through
The liquid death you brew
And like the sun that you engulf
I long for you to embrace me too
Hold me in your arms
And give me the love you hide
Kiss my forhead and my mind
Envy burns in me when the sun or the wind touches you at night
You’re so beautiful when you sleep
What a perfect harmony You and me would be
I see no death in you
Only longing and a muse, how?

Blue

 

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On 23rd of June in the summer of 1992

You asked me what my favourite colour was

I looked at the blood red sunset view

And I looked at your blood red BMW

I looked at my sundress and matching red shoes

I looked at your cheeks, they were red too

And I looked at the red oozing from your fresh wounds

I saw it drip from the tips of a broken wine bottle

Jagged shards holding dregs of blood and booze

The tie that you wore, too, had a blotchy red hue

And so did your face when it choked you

As I slid the broken glass into you

And like a missed train I saw your breath leave you

On 23rd of June in 1992

You asked me what my favourite colour was

And I told you it was blue

And I had lied to you

It was red that I craved, not an ugly blue

That reminds me of you or your icy eyes

Or the oceans or blueberries or the skies

Or of our little blue cottage in Peru

Or any other memory of you

I had buried long ago deep beneath

All the red rage you left in my blue little dreams

Had you asked me in the summer of 2000 instead

I’d have told you my favourite colour is red.