I
Call her a lady
Sometimes
When
She’s your baby
Sometimes
Just call her
Cause
She’s a good lay
Sometimes.

Though in her heart
She needs a friend
Every now and then.

She embrace the state
Fully knowing
And yet bitter sweetly
At a loss.
Even as stillness comes
The craving.

When she stop asking,
Stop stalking
The verve will be gone,
Her passion spent
And heart too sore again.

She may embrace
Her submission as well
As her aggression
But she lay naked
To no man in subservience.

II
The hours blur into days gone the way of the fey,
Her mind spent off on odd thoughts a pondering
Existence and the state of being stilly
In convergence with the urgence of her needs
Voice low and rough as life beats her down
She will sing away anyway, find her path alone.

III
I just want the words to spill,
Spit forth from lips like venom
Sucked straight from the veins.

The myriad thoughts of all that fall
Are these? While the others stay a fester.

Everyone’s a fucking poet
They write their smallness
In a tight hand. Their lives
Neatly fitting into form
And rhyme while my soul
Bleeds all across the lines
And on into the white space.

Bleed away the day
Gettin’ by on nothing.