Ambivalent Heart

Still feeling angry.

Still feeling hurt and betrayed.

But damn! I miss you.

My Box

Just like Pandora,

Opening my box won’t kill you.

Years should’ve proved that.

Independence Day

  
You know why you’ve lost?

Cause I didn’t cry once today. 

I call that a win.

Proverbs 3:13

  

Happy is the man,

Who confesses to his crimes. 

Wear what you have done.  

Out of a Muddy Death

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Ophelia swims!
Just when you thought you’d drowned me,
I came up for air.

I Make the Rules

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Whose reality?
For me, you were never real.
My reality!

The Fall of (Wo)Man

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What are you, Weak One?
You whose insides drip out of you like shame.
Whose worth is not marked by quality of character, but by the amount of produce seeded in your belly.
Does your existence only matter when there is fruit within your womb?
What are you?
Are you more than just a mere rib set aside to provide companionship?
To provide comfort?
Can you stand mightier than kings?
Divinely as gods?
You whose frame and feature is compared so often to that of a delicate flower.

What are you, Empty Strength?
You whose so numb, you couldn’t tell a winter wind from a knife in the back.
You who pleads in silence for a safe place to cry.
But instead follows the fold in a parade of rage.
What are you?
Are you more than just a pile of dust molded into a play thing for a fickle father?
A forever-child searching always for his abandoning mother?
You whose pride is more valuable than the opportunity to connect.
The opportunity to be human.

What are you?…
What are we?

History of the Harridan

History of the Harridan

We were human once, were we not?
Long before our mothers and the mothers long before her.

When did we sever?
When did this war begin?

We war with Them and we war within ourselves,
So, this battle never ends.
We have no allies with our backs to one another.
We submit our own.

And now, Oh and now, we are nothing but abandoned mines.
Once searched and praised for our precious treasures,
Until stripped of our worth, and left for the centuries of time to bestow mercy on us, and rebuild what we once were.

But I am not a diamond mine,
And the more you strip me, the more naked I become,
Until all that is left is bone.
For no minute, nor day, nor thousand years can rebuild me from bone.

We were human once, were we not?
Long before our mothers and the mothers long before her.

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