I admit that I am like a kid
When I see what I just did
Sitting here alone at home
And writing a really fine poem.

I giggle and dance a bit
Like a rockstar with a hit.
I have to dance, I can’t sit.
I celebrate for a little bit.

I don’t need the world’s applause.
That's like waiting for Santa Claus.
But the approval gives me pause.
Writing is a good enough cause.

It feels so good, it’s physical.
In fact, I’ll claim it is lyrical,
Mystical, and very much musical.
Something like a literary miracle.

I have written down my soul
And that was my entire goal
To communicate is my role
And it came out strong and whole.

So, I write it up and send it out
And maybe mine is the only shout,
That is good enough to brag about.
And sometimes it develops clout.

Some of them gather many fans
Writing doesn't disrupt my plans
But my words have passed through hands
And I am happy with what I began.

Entry ~
You were the first man that ever broke my heart. It was the day I was born. You held me in your arms and made me a promise that would rip us both apart. You promised to love me unconditionally from the start. But time passed and over the years those words faded from your heart. In the presence of a war when you had one foot out the door. There are vacancies in my memories where a father should have played a part. Like teaching me to drive a car, or telling me don't believe boys that say I love you from the start. Instead, I looked at every boy with tears in my eyes and willingly accepted every single lie, thinking maybe if I part my thighs they'll learn to love how broken I am inside, but they never do. Just like you they leave without a single clue and I'm left alone, used, wishing my daddy would have loved me too. And I'm not writing this to blame you, or break you, or tell you I hate you. I've made mistakes too. Ones deeply rooted in my relationship with you. And I get that maybe you didn't have a clue that your daughter was struggling in the world without you. But I relied on you to set the standard for boys I would let into my heart. By the time I was sixteen, I felt like a tortured piece of art. I learned to love myself of course. Over the years of ripping myself apart I learned to chart the darkness in my own heart. I don't blame you anymore for my broken parts. I'm healed from being angry at you. I'm writing this to tell you I'm sorry for failing you, and I'm sorry you failed me too.

I love you
dow
       w
           n
to your jagged,
         dark edges
culling smoke
               and twisting tides
                  your steaming heart
              that pulses, in my hands
          as you give it-
and the pungent tears
when they fall
         from your eyes
I lick up your pain
to soothe it smooth
its rawness catching
       velvet ripples of skin
I pull a blanket
of mahogany wine
over your soul
          lacerations
that seep out
              from the layers within

and in that tender of
nightfall's darkest foliage
I long to calm
your monsters' clawing
as they gnaw at you from
                  the inside out

I crave to fill
the hollowed-out longing
my own hungers writhing
      in obscene
                      devout

For I am all that is sacred and wild
the spark has been lit
from my innermost rooms
I dance to the drums of
the woman as child
her mystical ways chanting
rhythms in runes

Demons might dance
as you gaze in reflection
in the mirror of time,
of unfiltered space
      but I adore all your sides,
          your imperfections
discern the divine
in the planes of your face
You are my galaxy
              of dark matter
bringing out my
           own looking glass
                         of vantablack
in a feral crown of obsidian
                             and onyx
as you reach me deep,
there's no going back

For when you love me like that,
plant your tameless,
                            hot seed
it blossoms within me
a tightly-wrapped tourniquet
               for when I bleed
and if my guts
should spill upon
               the  floor
you will remind me,
in glowing of pores
           of who I am
and how I am whole
a lovelight lit in the
storm of my soul
I will push down deeper
until I feel those roots
that connect me to
my center
  to my
succulent fruit
So slice me open.
     Pull me apart.
Let the juice run down
to heal
     your
jagged-edged
               heart

When
        we think like
                       stones..

But drown when our
               thoughts
                       get to heavy....

i hate you,
i hate the way that you beat me when i come home late
i hate the way you yell at me when your wrong
i hate that you are always mad
i hate that you think you are superior to me
but i love you,
i love that you love me
i love that you gave me life
i love that you support me in everything i do
i love that you would give anything for me to be happy
but despite all of this love and hate,
i can't be your favorite daughter
i can't pretend to love you when at times i can't like you
i can't support you anymore
and most of all
i can't continue to live with your suffocating, pestering, raw, unperceptive demenor.
i'm sorry