For The Body

It never crossed my mind that taking my clothes off for a couple of sweet words was beyond unethical.

You see, Prostitution is a trade-off between morals & money.
But what do you call it when you trade your morals for attention?

Society taught me, who I am, isn’t good enough,
Since then, I’ve been in search of validation,
& in return I left my body in complete annihilation,
Because I’m too busy living to give a damn about my education.

I’m too busy putting on make up because I don’t like the sight of my bare reflection.

My mind & body are in some sort of bittersweet altercation.

I seem to allure strangers that may never be properly introduced to my spirit but land up getting introduced to the demons in my head.

Their naked bodies creep in my bed smelling of another woman’s stench.

They, fondle my breasts,
And I effortlessly part my legs
Like the red sea spread for Moses
With each deep stroke leaving my sheets a bloody mess…

Their patience for me,
Proportionally inverse to their dick size.
And…
After the hot sex,
Their emotions for me evaporate faster than the sweat in between our fully satisfied bodies.

Situation left sticky…

So heavily drenched in lonely that they don’t even bother to hold me…
Scared that my loneliness might linger on the follicles of their skin.

Fuck bitch! i’ll call you back in 2 minutes
wounded up being a few weeks,

Mind heavily impregnated,
Fueled with a million assumptions & insecurities …
Because they forever make my body a vessel that makes them come, & at times on my face,

But won’t be around when the bitter tears race, like my tears are some sort of kryptonite to their manhood…

They’ll never know the million scars that hide the very pain I scratch in their back.

When they come back,
They bite my lip so hard,
And suck out the bitter taste they left lingering on my lips from the last time.

I’m so damaged, that I’ll probably only be able to recognize my own reflection when the broken piece of the mirror is used to draw lines that satisfy my addiction.

The voices in me don’t sound like me anymore, they sound more like demons, demons that sound like them.

At this point,
My body is well acquainted with every position in the karma sutra,

We don’t even bother with foreplay, because I’m already wet,

Then I hear a careless whisper

“baby girl, this doesn’t suit ya”

Thing is, I’m not doing this to look good, I do this to feel good…

All I ever wanted, was to be more than a wounded 2nd option

I heard
“time heals all”
But what do I do when every day it feels like the hands on my clock also suffer,
But with arthritis,
Barely moving…

See, I’ve been looking for God EVERYWHERE,
everywhere but the bible,

Trying to figure out a lil better about this thing called man…

Because Adam was easily manipulated by Eve,
But all my pussy power can do is manipulate men to leave.

They pulled me from their chest, put an apple in my hand & blame me for their mess…

I lay in bed crying for invisibility because when I look up, the reflection I see of myself, is the god in him…

I know that the story ends in sin…

Many lifeless bodies who could have been lawyers, doctors, pro athletes lay breathless suffocated in latex on the pile of tissues left in my bin…

Sinful White Linen

Laying in sinfully white linen,

Covering the remains of my body,

Which are drenched in sex and loneliness.

 

Unable to fathom the debt I paid for love,

Because no one is able to hold me once you’re gone.

Not only am I swimming in your sweat,

I’m drowning in thoughts of you,

Unable to utter another man’s name.

Unable to spit out the sins I effortlessly swallowed last night.

Unable to get you out of my head…

 

Because the Coffee I wanted so bad,

Landed up being the Coffin I eagerly buried myself in.

 

I can’t help but reminisce about how bad I longed for your kiss,

The same kiss which happened to suck out my soul, along with my logic.

I am as unfamiliar with my surroundings as I am to myself.

 

A constellation of regret lays swift on my window seal,

As I did on the bed, waiting to be consumed by your darkness,

Because the stars and I aren’t strangers to the one thing that makes us Come alive…

I Wanted Coffee…

A passionate history of empty promises,

In the chamber of moments never written,

I was waiting for you…

Your presence

poured out like perfume –

No wonder I adored you so much.

Just wanting you to look at me once more…

Just look at me like love.

And like a break from war,

I accept you with open arms wide open,

Just glad that you’re breathing again,

And glad that you’re whole.

 

 

Now I am everything depicting broken because it is my heart that you stole.

Now here you are…

And I am unable to feel my own hollow; due to the illusion that you make me whole.

Waking up next to you, with the smell of coffee brewing parallel to morning dust.

Coffee synonymous to lust

At this moment, I am unable to differentiate between love and lust.

I’ve avoided so many potential heartbreaks

Yet I still want to face your heads on.

Upon preparation for this moment

I specifically said I wanted coffee.

And not coffee in the morning.

But Coffee as a gesture.

A simple gesture to show that you care.

 

A Good Thing…

It’s just unfortunate that people want to possess a “good thing”…
What they don’t realize is that what makes you fall in love are the little moments exchanged and at no point can you just opt to have those in a glass jar and store them for when you’re longing again.
So they land up wanting to possess the person who provides those precious moments, even though they aren’t meant for them.
And that’s how good things are ruined; forcing to capture the person and not the moments. And that, for me is humanity’s greatest flaw
Side Note: I believe love is powerful enough to indicate what’s truly made for you
People opt to settle for moments instead of waiting for love handcrafted for them.

AIDS Is No Stranger To Me

I remember coming home one afternoon and they had casually said “Elton is no more”

[Elton was my friend 

A little boy who lived next door]

See, I knew it was inevitable 

I knew that it was gonna happen 

But I just didn’t understand 

He was 12

He was my friend

He had done nothing…

He had done nothing wrong 
Some days he was full of life

Other days he couldn’t come out to play.

On those days, I resented his parents for breeding …

Giving birth to a ticking time bomb.
He lived with his Mom, Dad and Little Brother 

In a small four walled house.

A house where death was no stranger.

He had lost his dad at first.

A man with a beautiful soul.

Then a newly born brother 

Whom we didn’t get to see grow-

Those four walls eventually covered his screams.
One day we were playing at the washing line,

And he had told me that some day soon, he’s going to die

I was in disbelief 

Because death and youth synonymously, we’re unbeknown to me.
It wasn’t long until his mom moved on to another 

I’d hear my friend’s screams land on my window seal

The new dad took pleasure in teaching my friend a lesson.

And in those same very four walls

Another little brother was conceived.

I couldn’t help but think that

She enjoyed watching her loved ones suffer and wither away. 

I was pissed 

I was mad

I think she secretly enjoyed giving birth to ticking time bombs.

Again, I just didn’t understand.

But there was one thing I saw in her eyes…

And it was Survival.

She was hungry to live and be provided for 

Not matter what the cost…
Wed 18 May 2016

I am sitting on my bed, a little over 12 years finally Mourning my friend’s loss…