In sentences I’ve never reached
My tongue never expressed
By the bleached letters of the un(know-ing)ly names
In a drift of a second just to be lost
In a pure desire to please you.
Who are you?
But you want me to ask hoW are you…
Yet I AM tired of playing anagrams,
Of playing small
Or just being u pure seduction for a teeth graveyard
You are so proud of.
It does feel like a disappearance, a discrepancy
Of non-left consonant.
In the majestic of your mighty power,
That you are right and I AM wrong(ly) accused
Of being never enough.
It’s like a thread, a stich that goes under your skin
Where two bones meet in a collision of being too much
Yet, in times I want to cut it, cut it (gently, like a sweet fudge),
cut it off my heart and to be free.
Why is it duffiCULT to stay out of it, so I can BE inside myself.
Without social proof, faked anxiety and fainted misery.
The dissonance is brave step and tears you apart like a love
At first sight, a sweet taste with bitter epilogue.
Experience fogs my direction, stopping me in my tracks
To see you fully in your victimhood.
With partial sisterhood, lost(ly) praised motherhood
In a not so close neighboured
Of your weakened eyes, with fingers too small
To cover your ears.
You lose your power in a precious attempt,
Fallen grip, immaculate strip, despite my flaws,
Despite family laws of endurance.
Here I AM, walking boldly over the Sun,
A fairy tooth, evaporating in existence of
Laid off mimicry in nature’s cycles.
Here I AM, digging through the ocean
Of impossible resurrection,
Breathing through your trimming words,
Up-side down steaming perfection.
Here I Am, flying above you,
A Super Nova yet to be born,
A thorn in the rose, daring to pass by you,
As you folliculate, satiate on redeemed
Parts of your self-esteem,
With white grin
Adorning your face in a space,
Will never meet again.