Butter Flies

Don’t touch him, other female
Can’t you read the stamped in fire red ink forehead
“Mine- another female”

Butterflies love a good stomach
to gnaw and sink their teeny tiny pincers into
causing the heart to pump something
OTHER
than sex driven, in and out yearning, desires

“Ew”

Feelings- oh they override circuit boards
and cause you to text first and check first
suddenly their blooming smile becomes the core of your happiness
not love, just infatuated like
What ever happened to be the tortoise in the race
Rather than running out at the hare’s pace

Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock

The time pass faster than Happy Hour- half off cocktail sale

I’m trying to get stuck in paste
than run a race that leaves
this sour taste of “feelings” oozing on my face

So I can zoom in on I
eyes blinking dark brown
Damnit, I’m thinking of your smile

Bored

“Fuck counting sheep
They never put me to sleep”

Two pairs of deep delicious brown eyes lay staring off into
different directions

One bashful pair open and glancing around the room
One sleepy pair closing, rolling over to imaginary lands

“Hey, are you awake?”

Murmurs escape a sealed mouth
The room roared it’s silent whispers

“Babe?”

The whoosh of the breeze breezed past the silk curtains

How does one value that priceless piece of art
that hangs crookedly on the newly painted wall
When they grow tired of looking and looking
and no touching, no doing, no nothing
but looking and hoping

The eyes would suddenly twitch ONCE
or the color would magically change on the walls

“Someone should really paint these walls…”

Acceptance

Ladies flip your freshly paid for weaves
curl your ends like deep spiral stairs
color those lids in sparkling golds
matching bra and thong- it’s gunna be a wild night
phone on vibrate- tell your man you’ll be back

Tonight we’re going out

Ruby red slippers become 5 inch spiked heels
Shake off the double shift, overtime underpaid week with the reggae grinding it out
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” the women giggle with exploding red lips

White button ups slip into sleeveless, sensual bodycons
Twerk off in the middle of the strobe lit, hardwood floor
“We can’t stop, We won’t stop!” the women shout with swiveling hips

Who says guys get to have all the fun !

Blue uniforms scope out the street with magnifying glasses on bouncing breasts
Strut that Naomi Campbell walk like life was one big party
“Freeze! Now put your hands in the air and wave ‘em like you just don’t care!”Dj says

Happy hour becomes happy night
Chasing vodka with tequila, chasing tequila with a grind, chasing a grind with a shot
Beep Boop “Babe, what are you doing?” Awkward…

Wrinkling grandmothers will look on with disappointing dropping eyes

Declare your independence with your favorite gals
You’re not a whore because you shake what yo momma gave ya
You’re not a whore because you’re stained “Devil Red” tonight
You’re not a whore because you want a little fun
Elders dropped it low once too

So break ya back
Stomp your heels
Live your life just as you feel
And when the night is through
Pick up your phone and say “Nothing chilling, how about you?”

Accept You

How to be Happy [Revised]

Step 1: Be You
Explore the hidden, cloaked with bats caverns of your soul with one big flashlight in hand. Find you hiding in the shadow world of your insecurities. Write ‘em down in script, seal it with some spit and remember who you are when the world spins outside. Dig deep and pull out all the dirt “The Man” pushed you under. Stand up and roar your thunder!

Step 2: Love
Thyself more than anyone else. Who says you can’t love you like Kanye loves Kanye? Before you give yourself up you give yourself gifts, like Jesus once got his, -gold, fucking sense and fur!

Step 3: Dream
Dream a dream that burns your ass from passion, pushes you off a cliff forcing you to fly. “No dream is too big and no person too small” Be like Gatsby just minus the lies and the spies. Think of it more like he always dots his i’s and crosses his e’s.

Step 4: Believe:
that all the broadway scripts you’ve set out in your head about how your life will play won’t win that emmy award but you are not to stop 100 feet before the yellow tape of the your imaginary finish line. McDonalds wasn’t built in a day

Step 5: Fail
Crash and burn because everyone does at some point in their life. They hit a wall and smash into a million pieces but take some time to piece themselves together again. How you gone get up if you’ve never been knocked down?

Happy Birthday #1

Let me begin with a note:
1.I will not display my inner feelings at this time, just slightly graze it to save some time
2. No hoes I’ve gotten rid of them all
3. Don’t get too hype. Calling you would not be enough

I get a little weak by your presence
And I don’t actually know why…

My knees want to buckle, screaming sweet signs of glee,
Whenever you hold me

You ever feel good in somebody’s arms?

Caught me off guard a smudge of a little bit
but I’m digging it, like grandma’s savory, last slice of apple pie
Cavity worthy sweet

But this is the day to celebrate you!
So grab some champagne or others bottle too
Pop ‘em, chug ‘em till your inside turn blue and spew rainbow colored ribbons like wild streamers at parties

You’ve earned it, I think,
Although we have so far to go
I want you to know

I wish you, not the best but, a grandiose golden day for the guy who’s lashes bat bigger than mine, who’s old soul sometimes drives me crazy, who’s missing one screw but has got his head on straight and someone who’s kind of great

Happy 20th Birthday

I Want To Like Someone [Revised]

I want to like someone
Not because he likes the way my hair flies in the wind
like loose, wild, broken flower stems fluttering away from their roots
or like waves in the water waiting to be stirred

I want to want someone
And not because he misses the
sensual grind of my hips on his
or the softness of my lips

I want to like someone
Because he’s got half, if not, most of his shit together
wrapped up in a box; bow and all
who knows at times it smells

I don’t aspire to desire to want to be with someone
who conspires against and retires the dreams I have to help him.
Who expires quickly and leaves me walking on a thin white wire.

I want to choose someone…

Shiny gold trophy Worthy

I want to like someone
I want to want someone
I want to choose someone

Not someone to choose me like pulling daisies out of the field
Carelessly and in the perfect shade of “I live recklessly”
Not someone to choose me like I’m the last donut in the Dunkin’ Donuts box
Not someone to choose me like their eyes have been ripped out of their souls and they’re patting the wall with moving feet trying to find a body

I
Want
To
Want
Someone

But,

But,
But,
I can fake it,
Beauty.
I’m sure I can!
But,
I hear them shout,
“Below our lowest standard, is where you stand.”
I can fabricate it,
Become stick thin.
I can fake it!
Beauty. . .
I can fabricate it,
Build another persona.
I can, I swear, I promise. I can
Become someone other than me.
I can, I will, I must.
Become a pedigree, I’m sick of mutts.
If you give me chance, dear idol of mine,
Because
I can fabricate it,
Beauty,
I can fake it. . . I promise.

Shadow

Evanescence.
I can feel it,
Darkness,
Creeping up into my pores.
As the thick velvety curtains of the shadows
Block out all existing light;
Evanescence.
I can see it,
Darkness,
Creeping up over my skin.
The blade shimmers in the ray of light
Through the slit as I try to cut it;
Evanescence.
I can hear it,
Darkness,
Eerily whispering my name on the wings of the wind
As the Divine Nine sit on their throne
Throwing daggers through the slit;
Evanescence.
I can taste it,
Blood,
Creeping out from my mouth and nose.
The bruises served as initiation
For the moment they pushed me down here;
Shadow. . .

Sandy

Sprinkling over two too tired calloused feet
A dash onto ashy ankles and muscular toned calves covering scarred and broken knees from trying to hard to not be a girl Drowning it up the side of her fully grown seasoned chicken thigh
Grazing juicy booty shorts
Just missing the womb.
Skimming up the side of under construction abs

“Oh how black skin’s never looked do good”

Pinching grains over pumping breast – sensitive soul she bared
Gushing it out over two too long arms to wrestle with catching wrists and squished together fingers
Pushing it up a stiff neck
Blanketing a cleft chin, full lips, easy to breathe through hard to smell through toucan nose
Pulling the imaginary wool made of sand over Elmo large brown seekers
Just slightly touching the hairline and tunneling through African American roots through to the a few split ends

“Sleep well, little one.”

As the sand covered her completely