benjamin’s broken button (channeling saul)

my book, my underwear, my board, my heart. these are just a few things of mine, you currently posses. my head, light with smoke that tastes like your lips. sweet and addicting, i prefer you to them. do you have it in you to fuck the view and fix…

if i could do it over, i wouldn’t change a thing. benjamin’s broken button, my weakened heart, smoke dancing. orange on black. fuck this shit,
“you’re so stupid, rose, you’re so stupid”

i am right here. where are you?

smoke seeps out my mouth, like the words i wish to say to you, but i never do. never.

i can say more with a kiss then i can with my pen. come closer, i’ll leave ink on your perfect lips.

locust walk, locust bliss and it’s you that i fucking miss. you write of his cock and my lips but i am the one standing next to you.
—
the shadows hear my pen scratch across the page and benjamin’s broken button feels the vibration of my redline induced heartbeat but i’d rather be like benjamin’s kite, inventing light so you could see how high i fly every time you give me that look because wings spring from my shoulder blades and i cut through the clouds, exposing the sun that burns your skin and i breathe you in, all the little pieces of you that meet the air and stick my cilia and make me want to pull you closer to start the process all over again so that i can sprout my wings and fly through the streets of this city, too small to hold my dreams, and rain my words over everyone just to make them remember why it feels so god-damned good to feel.
“when i can feel you breathing into me…” do you know why i feel so compelled to recite those lines? do you know why i stand alone atop the parking garage night after night.
no exit, no sleep, no rest, no reason, no rear window for me to peak in.
the roads not closed, i stole the sign. now can i steal you? take you from the fucking dark you live your life in. i feel the shiver. do you see the bumps on my arms? they show up every time i feel your touch.

you live in subways, making friends with fat rats, lighting garbage on fire and i am the performer selling her soul for some businessman’s dime. screaming on stages or parking garage cages or inner city subways cars, or stairways or bedrooms or porch parties for the inebriated whores. i spin the alphabet to blow poems like the smoke from a just fired gun. my snipers eye aiming for your heart but i’m too scared to lose my bullet cause the substance it contains it worth more than my life and if i give it to you i don’t know if i will get it back. you’ll use it to get high and leave me behind. you’ll use it for inspiration, like the seventh octave, you’ll use it to keep you covered, like my calvin’s you’ll use it to revive you, like the blood from my heart that you wear like a badge of honor, a metal of honor, the dog tags of a fallen solider and i’ll pass you my pen and i’ll pass you my voice, you can take over my legacy, i know you’ll make me proud until i come back down from my flight in the clouds and i’ll be like that flag whipping around above the tops of trees at the mercy of the wind which blows to the beat of your poem. something inside me dances when ever you speak. “i like a stone gargoyle spring to life” i want to resuscitate you, my angel. i’m feathering your wings. the shadows hear their gentle rustle. benjamin’s broken button vibrates in their wake.
i live to make you fly.
you breath to make me high as i watch your chest, your perfect chest, rise and fall next to me.

the sprinklers buzz on
misting my pages. sending a chill down my spine. this night is mine. even though its temperature sends me inside.

Hit Me

it hit me like a drink in the face; it hit me like the pavement after being purposefully tripped in public; it hit me like a mac truck at sixty miles per hour; it hit me like embers in my eye, ash to my lungs, hot liquids to my tongue; it hit me like writers block and it clung in the the right places like satin sheets temping me, tempting me, tempting me, tempting me back into bed but it’s the past hiding between those sheets and i don’t want to rest my head where i’ve already been, don’t want to return to places i decided were best deserted. so yes, it hit me as hard as anything can. much like the day i looked in the mirror and decided i was okay with my lips and eyes and freckles and i realized that i can think i’m pretty and not be a bitch; it hit me like the day i figured out that i am a short person and that i will never see the tops of peoples heads but that they can still look up to me. and it hit me like the day the seventh doctor told me they couldn’t fix my  wrists bounding me to braces and physical limits my mind will never fully comprehend; it hit me like winning first place and being stripped of the opportunity for gold, teased with the possibilities; it hit me like gasping for air after walking away from a blinding love that was never a love to begin with; it hit me like knowing i can save someone from jumping just by being in their life; it hit me like the day i recognized the fact my best friend doesn’t know who i am anymore; it hit me like realizing i’m gay but it slipped in like pattern in poetry and night into day. it hit me hard as anything: no one knows who i am and i stand alone.

I stand alone. And that’s not to say I’m lonely or bitter or better for the solitude; it’s just become the truth. I stand alone on a cliff overlooking my heart, which is to say, I over see my emotional tides and twilight constellations that tell stories from my herstory and I can see as far into my future as I would like. Friends, like clouds come and go and my family is in the varying shades of blue in the backdrop of everything I call my own. But it hit me, like nothing I’ve ever experienced when you looked me in the eye and seemed utterly surprised that I had changed over time, as if all our late night drives contemplating transformations of the mind and revolutions that work by building the notion of paradox, humor and change from the inside out and living a life by the manifestations of the truths originated in the two front seats of my hybrid machine were just two teens pretending to speak truth. And truth still puts his dirty hands all over me and truth still has a way of bringing me to my knees but I’ve learned how to make truth work for me. So while you’re there still living in your fear, I am standing on the edge of the world I’ve created for myself. I am stringing together my wings feathered with personal belief and self esteem. And though it’s currently a work in progress so is the progression of my thoughts. I’ve said it before and I will say it again, one day I will find home within the dimensions of my body and I will take that with me wherever I decide to fly with my metaphorical wings. Because the limitations of the minds eye are dismal at best but the imagination of my soul is infinite.

Affinity is eternity is divinity is me and the deities are taking the fear from I raised to the tenth power and divided by my intuition. My third eye has nearly perfect vision. What can I see? Well for the first time in my life I opened my eyes and it hit me as hard as anything can: I have the ability to see the boundless possibilities of all that is me and that power is granted by the fact that I stand alone.

I stand alone, free from debilitating fear, free from ice on a window, free from smoke in my eyes, free from the limitations of my height because you may not know it but I, I, I am a short person. But I stand on stilts made up of my own words, which mirror my moral fortitude, and I am taller than I’ve ever been before. I want to be a spiritual giant before I’m through.

It hit me harder than anything has before:
I stand alone.
And by that I mean, I am free. So clean the dirt off your face and come join me.

Trafic Light In Reverse

i spent  my life paying attention to directions. stopping at yellow and turning when told it was required but lately i’ve found i feel so misguided so i’m throwing out the compass i’ve been provided and revoking my birth right to do with my life exactly what i’ve always wanted. i’m not letting fear and insecurity steal my soul from me.

the world is beautiful today. seen through an iris. i wish upon the lips i kiss. i dismiss the blues so i can see the sky. i’m a friend of isis because she can hear a sinners cry.

my life is a traffic light in reverse. i started off slow, let my hesitation go and now it’s time for my innards to glow.

god is a concept conceived during earth’s circumcision. and i am an infant cause still just peeing and pooping into an organic diaper made from recycled bits of my poetic license trying to figure out my reason for existence.

is it just me or has it gotten stuffy on this side of the light? all wrapped up in “what will you do with your life?” “who do you want to become?” watch out for those economy blues. gotta make the dough so you can bake the bread and keep your loved ones feed. if only passion could satisfy our hunger. but it’s all about thinking older and looking younger, give up happiness in exchange for income. but i’d rather you just come in, share a piece of this shallow world that makes your eyes light up and your heart explode with anticipation to taste the sapping heat of your wildest desires locked within the chastity belt between the thighs of the best looking and most worthy chase. the type only achieved by out of the class room education, in the bedroom mediation, on the streets proclamation and devotion to ones self motivation heightened by the reversal of the traffic lights, the blinking of the iris to capture the beauty of the day in black and white, the taste of the lips you’ve been caving to kiss because a city is a city regardless of its size and a heart is a heart despite the amount of blood inside and the soul is a theory, like god is a concept and i am an infant overwhelmed with sexual desires and the need to fuse a micro pen with the tips of my fingers so that i can write my words with my curious fingers as they explore the lengths of her body.

oh, those hips and hands. vertebrae and nipples. it would take mozart to compose an opus in tribute to her moans and sighs and michelangelo to do any justice to her lines and she might not believe me but i swear i wouldn’t lie, unless it were between her thighs.

never wanted someone so much, oh baby, you got me drunk with lust. i need you to come closer. i need you closer tonight. i need you to come closer so we can come with the dawning of the light.