危険な言葉

何も言わず


Whole
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi

I would project this grey lithe poison.
Let it smoke into your gut
Till that stale waft would rot.

Instead I swallowed myself.
Veins bubbling with this sooted
Steam.

I have swallowed myself.


Ambition
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi

They told her she could be anything.

But never did she anticipate a women loving woman, with trembling innards spewed on a cold street right next to her charred pulsing muscle.

They didn't mention the ache of fraying sinews. Or of rose water weeping wounds to be bandaged while the world sleeps.

She didn't know about the store of sludge in the pit of her gut that would make her gurgle as she choked; futile attempts not to swallow herself.

They told her to follow her dreams.

But all she dreams of is sleep.


Tip
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi

I tattooed your name on my tongue
so even if I were dumb you would
be all they know.


Read
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi
They tried to colour me crazy.
Filling my head with As and Bs
but only As because a B is for low life
dirt pushing fuckers with no dreams.

They told me to read.
read books of a history, not mine,
and plays of troubled souls
speaking in tongues and soliloquies
that I dont understand but I nod and agree
as they crank their hands and the climax is saturated
in self satisfaction when their hands plunge deep.

Not for me. But for they.
Degree wielding warriors ready to educate
on who to be but remember no Bs if you want to be
somebody recognised by me and she, he, them, they,
won't stop till they colour me crazy. 

Poetry
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi

"Play-dough!" I say, as I hand you my heart.
Soft and spongy for you to mold.
You pushed and squeezed till it was cracked and dry;
till it was dirty, diseased and cold.

Not just my trust. My hope. My virginity.
Take them and do what you will.
But I beg. I beg of you, give it back.
Give me back my poetry.


The poet
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi
I used to write lines with barren words,
as I strung them together haphazardly.
Now I write poems of hearts in bloom,
because you are the words in my poetry.

(no subject)
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
No, for I am not old Will.
I cannot scribe you a bouquet 
nor utter you paintings, still. 

Sour Winters haunt my lines; mine
and his, seasons apart.
A pauper in song, coin and words
but for you, rich is my heart. 

(no subject)
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi
I am so full of self loathing this evening.
And I thought I was on the road to recovery. 

New start
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi

I've told myself that I am going to try and sort out my life this summer. I guess I will be recording it here on my live journal. I haven't actually been on here for quite a while and I feel bad. I'm hitting the gym tomorrow and I am seeing my counsellor more frequently this summer. Lana please don't let yourself down.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.


Butterflies
Me and my Japanese sister
sansimi
My heart bleeds paprika snow,
pregnant is she with thorns and amor. 
The passion is partial the ache mutual. 
Like a foolish hare in the jaws of a hound.
The barrel of your hand is on my chest.
The stretch of your smell has a hold on my breast.
The perfume of your voice shakes my innards. 
The print of your skin leaves cocoons in my gut.
One day they burst, soaring and kicking, 
shrieking and singing: your name. 

Note: This is one of the poems I was hoping to use for my partner on Valentine's Day. Please feel free to tell me which you think is best.
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