Now I Hang Out With Many Selves

“Struggling with words not written but already speaking through the way I wear my morning.”

Now I hang out with many selves

one pretty

mirror painting

self

two inches thick

curly and worried

seeking her same self

through the same prettiness self

that she is

There’s another self who aint seen a mirror

darker than my mirror self

colorless color the

kind that don’t like to show up in the mirror self

the mule carrying the wait of living so the pretty self

can keep lying to herself

hiding behind her pretty planning parties for people she doesn’t know

but will know and love her because she has made a long career

out of being her pretty self.

 

There’s the kinky self

flesh eating, craving, hunting, biting, angry, raging  self

the sex is for punishment self

the dirty not caring what you think of her dirtiness self

and the self-righteous self

who beats the hell out

of the sex to kill self

breaks her arms…twists her ankles…bleaches her skin…so she can be

the cute innocent

who me? self

the oops forgetful me, uh-oh puppy dog eyed

you couldn’t possible hurt me could ya self

woman in a girl’s skirt self

the are you my daddy mr. stranger self

purposely disposes of her age

when she wants to forget how much time has passed

since she felt it last

make me a warm bottle

rock me to sleep

just this once resurrect what died before I knew it did

… …. ….

again/ness

same/itude

Crawled and scraped my knees on the road’s of bone’s saw dust

I have been to this void/ful divine promise

I have spilled my worthless blood on the ground

to be stepped on by a psychiatrists’ parade

I’ve been in the ambulance explaining why being

so beautiful I want to take my life. So God…

God?

GOD?

This is rock bottom

Grant me the serenity

to accept the things that have been changed

and the strength and wisdom to go again

down these dark alleys

of several selves with every self

in it’s painful rage and raging pain.

 

 

 

 

‘Self’ Aint Easy Chil’

Dance in the living

show dying people

how much innocent soldiers mean.

‘Are we talking about war?’

‘Yeah chil’ the one where you wake up?

Both guns fully loaded left hand an right hand got no allies.

How many of ‘em dead girl, and you aint even went ta tha funeral?’

GOD!

GOD!

GOD give me,

GOD give me somethin

peaceful

to give myself.

What made you start?

I was also there

just said ‘fuck it’ if it’s to be written why not today?

Struggling with words not

written but already

speaking

through the way I

wear my morning.

On The Plays I Play

On the plays I play

hidden characters

one woman show

several voices

emotional wigs

stolen/ness

stolen/ness

premature baldness

‘Damn it!

The wound is still there,

we’ve been here before.’

But have you felt it like this?

Whatever is safe.

Whatever buys me cheap acceptance.

Whatever covers the stench momentarily

Whatever slips off the tongue and sounds right

smart, daring, cool

Come find me.

Come find me and I will labyrinth you in a maze of doors and mix-matched keys.

 

An open wound

to stick your finger into

loudly.