13 posts tagged “love”

a love fades away
blown by the tides of the wind
never seen again
but a scent screams memory
sour fumes of betrayal

gotta phone call from an ex the other night, wondering if i believed in man-made destiny. having control of something as large as life only lasts so long is what i told him. a lonely street soldier with unsightly scars. he has one eye now, lost the other in a gun war a few years ago. tragedy has been his trademark since conception; acidic sperm in a broken cunt, a seed of rape. he revealed all this and much more to me between strong pulls of smoke in cadwalader park, '99. that same night, he took me to his sister’s place and tasted me…his blunt-scented lips between my legs. my hips jutted forward eagerly with each thrust of his tongue. i tried to birth a cure into his mouth, poured all my compassion into him, but my sweetness couldn’t kill the curse…
“fuck destiny. i already know she has a hit out on me,” he said sardonically. i snickered, told him to stop being so morbid, though i knew some parts of him were already dead, minus heart and strength. he told me he loved and valued me, believed it all. i couldn’t be what i once was to him, but i vowed to always be his friend…true and near in spirit. after we hung up, i tossed and turned, thinking i wouldn’t hear from him for another six months and what torture that would be. i didn’t wanna get a phonecall about him being dead like i did with my first knight. i threw back the sheets and took a deep breath, allowed my mind blissful memories…like how we used to go to cadwalader after dark to philosophize about life’s highs and lows. it seemed the park was our sanctuary away from everything…all the time....days, seasons. one winter night was king…sliding across the icy basketball court, holding on to each other’s bubble parka, falling eventually…him on top of me, both of us smiling frivolously til he kissed me with unmatchable tenderness. we were oblivious to the dope-sick zombies passing by the fence…'cause at that moment, in that trickle of time, it was the perfect place to be.
impulsively, i got out of bed to email one of his closest homies, telling him to keep watchful tabs for me. my boy is a chronic wanderer, and i get paranoid. sometimes i wonder if being nomadic is his way of seeing freedom.
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insomnia pimps this bitch at night. eyes rimmed with the debris of distorted dreams, body moves slow like it’s trudging through molasses. i’m living in fatigue-plagued hours, can’t control this surreal life. it feels like an out-of-body experience sometimes, but when it cuts and stings badly, there’s no denying it’s real.

in all my years of writing online, i realized i never once wrote about my first love who was tragically killed in the late 90s. i mentioned him very briefly in an entry i wrote on my site last year called "fighting nemesis," which i'll post later on this week, but besides that - nothing. for whatever reason, i feel like it's time i share something now. this is yet another layer of self partially unveiled.
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"out amongst the walking wounded, every face on every bus
is you and me and him and her and nothing can replace the us i knew
nothing can replace the us i knew"
-everything but the girl

daydreams tease, they tease hard and fuck my mind up.
nice promises of sun kisses and yellow bliss, slivers of you. how can i not close my eyes and pucker my lips, await the seduction. i wait so long and so goddamn hard that i almost miscarry this hope inside me, so long that it feels like the butterflies in my belly are gonna get tired of flying for nothing and die. reality always has this sick way of killing shit...and i feel like i gotta have this fortress built around my fantasies for the battle.
perhaps a certain freedom is what i need; that's what some conscious boho told me in conversation. well, bitch...use your marvelous higher power to show me those eagles constellated in the sky. i just need a little more inspiration to let go - that's the bullshit she sang to me, but bay...i know your daydreams well. they tease and fuck my mind up, and this is one of those tragically romantic truths.
i can feel the ashes in my mouth, for the sweetest kisses you had for me were never given. all these thoughts and schizo-esque sensations are enough to make me go postal. like, i wanna hijack time and go back a decade, pull a big gun on the fate gods and tell them to rewrite your fucking story, or else. i just know you weren't meant to leave me that soon. sometimes i wanna scream your name, force you here with the impossible magic a lonely heart determinedly creates. i grab my memento box and madly sift through your photographs and poems til my heart builds a memory for my mind's autoerotic pleasure...and the orgasm's good, but daydreams tease and fuck everything up 'cause they don't last. missing you is some kinda beautiful hell.
every once in a while, i see your older brother...and when we hug, i swear i feel your soul permeating and warming my skin like a spirit trying to reconnect with true human love...and my mind can't help itself; to imagine is to remember all the things we experienced and the things we didn't get to, to imagine is to keep you alive. you are and will always be soulmate numero uno. i don't think i'll ever stop dreaming of you. even when i'm half-assedly or totally giving my love to other people, i'll always remember you. even when the odds don't want me to...somehow i will.

i'm in a creative rut right now.

pain is one of my biggest muses. my pen tends to snub poetical brilliance when shit is peachy. it's like, if my mind isn't in "maniacal machine" mode, force-feeding me my own crazy, emotional thoughts, it misses the torture...'cause happy can get awkward. i'm not what most would call a masochist, but i do need some dirty wicked inspiration, like some fucked-up semblance of love to enter my life momentarily so i can write beautifully haunting poems about how i let people into my gargantuam-sized heart just long enough to caress my skin and whisper pretty lies that'll later turn to salt to punish my bleeding ears - some shit like that. (but yo, am i not the queen of run-on sentences?!) yeah, baby, i got issues, and i appreciate them; love-hate relationship type shit. sometimes i think i'm borderline emo, sans the look, but i still welcome and dig pretty things. i'm a walking paradox, as we all are in some shape or form. and just for the record, good love can inspire me too.

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i love the rain. no, like i really love the rain. i miss spring. summer's cool, but it's not one of my favorite seasons. i love spring because it represents transition. sunny days with hints of cloudiness, cool rain-kissed air, thunderstorms coupled with the elongated murmur of tires sliding against wet cement...yum. the sight/smell/sound of spring. i want it again, right now...almost in a lustful way. see, nature is one of my biggest muses too.

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my new kicks came today...super skate adidas. they're so fly...i wanna show them off asap, but not as much as i'm gonna wanna show off my fafi kicks when they come. holler! check fafi out. apparently, she's the new hotness, but i've been up on her for a while now. *snicker*

that's it for now, kiddos. my back is killing me slowly.

i remember when my melon-stained lips caressed you in the peak of summer, and i recall your taste surpassing the fruit's sweet juice on my tongue...and your emotions were running high, and your excitement clung to my chest, evoking heated passion strong enough to drown deep ancient oceans, and i knew the vowels and consonants of your thoughts before you put the syllables in motion, and your desire was the antithesis of austerity...and goddamn, i loved your enticing vulgarity, and i'd instantaneously birth rivers when you'd whisper smutty words in my ear, making me quiver, while your hands appreciated the design of my ample rear which you affectionately dubbed your "babysitter," 'cause you had a real fetish for nutting in her...and i swear you never stopped cumming, every last drop sticky as honey, and until the peak of summer returns, this lusty memory of you, lover, will continue running......

traveling along the schuylkill river at night, you can see the beauty of philly in the distance. bright city lights reflecting warmth and promise, excitement. i swear it looks like the biggest firefly orgy ever, making love-magic on the black water…ribbons of gold floating about, the sun’s energy at rest til morning. sometimes it looks so goddamn pretty from afar, i don’t wanna get any closer for fear of ruining the mirage.
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you looked so perfect
i didn’t see the bruises
until i loved you

in this nocturnal hour, i am overcome with emotion, and it is fueled by an indignant passion...one that turns sadness to vengefulness and vengefulness to beastliness, and love, this is why i need my space. i don't want to hurt you like you've hurt me...but while i'm feeling all of this - almost simultaneously - i am comforted by a merciful inkling of love and empathy from another source, subtly, very slowly mitigating the chaos within. it's nice to know someone else cares, yo. i need the balance like the sky needs the moon and the sun. but really, i hope my dreams elude all this melancholy tonight.