It's 7 In The Afternoon

Yes 7 IN THE AFTERNOON

And I have forgotten

How to write in poetics 

Tongue kissed and gaping like
a siren missing from her sea.

 

I have been coughing up black for days.  

 Unable to clean the taste from my mouth,

These broken keyboard keys sewn into my fingertips scream something fierce.

They ache with longing to tell of a story

I am so damn tired of looking over railings
and wondering what it would feel like to fall.
.

Haunted

His whispered goodbyes caught fire
in the whites of her eyes as wild dogs
and empty oceans devoured him.
 

Standing still for years, 

She with a waiting heart and waiting fingers

Gave birth to ghosts with feathers.
Haunting in his sleep, swinging like

Sharp jewelery and pendulums

Carving cryptic messages upon his floor

'You, with your tattooed baptism skin
and slithering tongue of sweet poison
left her aching ashes mixed with gunpowder.'

Immortality

  She painted galaxies upon her skin.
Telling stores of years old kisses
resting deep within her marrow.
Her body, shaped with dirt and fireflies
was sutured together by birds with teeth

 A dark eyed oracle, whispering dead blood languages in her sleep.
Dancing in fields of silk sheets and disfigured fingerprints,

As she tried to forget the perverse needs

Of nothing more than mortal men.

Muse

 She corrodes star shapes into
the hearts of sleeping poets,
slowly, methodically.

Whiskey

She devoured my heart in one slow,satisfying gulp.

I heard it plunge into the gaping emptiness of her.

She drank the sun from my fingertips, licked me from her lips,

And said

"Rose petals look better dead,plucked from your November pores."

I cringed.
"They go down smoothest with Writers Tears."

Working Woman

 I want you.

Naked. Covered only by covers.

You've been a working woman all day. Tonight, be my lover.
Once, twice, three times if you can take it.
The sex that women dream about, I promise we will make it.

I want to go deeper,wider, provide you beautiful pain
One that can only be compared to giving birth.

She's Lost

She's lost.

The "Baddest Bitch" searching for a "Boss"
She'll do anything to get him, no matter the cost.

Even if it's selling,

Her soul.

To get her wrist cold,
and some Gucci tops to go with her skinny jeans.
All because they have been telling her
she was beautiful since she was knee high.
Beautiful people deserve beautiful things.

So she began to accumulate a treasure chest.
full of meaningless watched, bracelets, and rings.
She'd never speak on the drama they'd bring.
 

We've failed her.

 We didn't give her the proper tools
so the streets just screwed and nailed her.

17 and pregnant, diapers before diplomas.
She signed a birth certificate before signing mortgage papers.
She owns a life, but she's not homeowner.

Another urban soldier, fighting to escape poverty.
Daddy can't help with her real estate
because he's busy being state property

She doesn't even know the meaning of self-worth
Loving the crew without loving herself first.

How can you blame her?
No home training, so niggas trained her.
Disrespected and neglected,
Never knew to correlate the dick with danger.

We associate this stigma to that enigma.

We need some help here.