#raelou

[vertebrhea]

Her: What makes you love her more than me?

Me: What gives you the implication?

Her: You look in to her pupils when you talk to her.

Me: I give you 100% the way I give her 100%

Her: I beg to differ. You give her touches of affirmation when she feels indifferent to you.

Me: I give you both what you require.

Her: What does that mean?

Me: I do what I must. She could never be you, vice versa. I meet all of your daily requirements. I make sure the meals are accounted for, that you never feel unwanted, that your orgasms are plentiful and your dreams are fulfilling themselves. She requires that I give her 89% of me at all times.

Her: Do I not require the same thing?

Me: No. Your love language needs a solid 60% of me. I give you 75% to make up for my shortcomings.

Her: How is any of this fair?

Me: Are you not happy or simply comparing yourself to someone else? If you are taking a test and you need to average 73 to maintain your 'A' average for the class, would you stress the answers or simply put your best foot forward?

Her: .....

Me: We're winning already.

[vertebrhea]

My eyes are trained to notice the queer women quietly observing their realms of femininity  | in masculinity | simultaneously, confident and oft times not. I want to grab them by their attention and stare for seconds, reassuring their presence  : 

you are here | you have every right to be  

[vertebrhea]

How To Treat Your Past

There is time: 

between Tuesday and Thursday five - forty five pm until 6: thirty with two minutes to spare |  a slight break between work and me time- shall I pencil you in? 

[vertebrhea]

Untitled

I couldn’t even fool myself -  that you, all by your lonesome was enough  for the magnitudes of my universe.  Who were you kidding?  Training yourself to think of me as some seasonal daffodil coloured purple for your royal delights placed on your kitchen table : you preferred the stream of light  versus halogen.  Why are elated at the disappearance of our  togetherness? 

Really, I wanted to paint a pretty picture. Something for you to remember when the next break-up isn’t as sweet.  And here I am, still considering the way the embers should fall near your feet. 

[vertebrhea]

Poems fr. a Poly Chick

i.  the world will change again keep living and you will see Braille notes ignored. 

ii.  wide brimmed lips i will listen forever Oshun left her here. 

iii.  love does not have it systematic genitals souls made of puzzles

iv. vacation time: her who knew she was such a bitch primary and i - gone. v.  broad back | tiny frame beautiful bois, second glance lesbians are diverse.  vi.  out of your comfort visuals begin to shift paradise, you thought. 

[vertebrhea]

“Ahem” 

[vertebrhea]

morning ritual

one block west the sidewalks are crowded with working ants and insects, fulfilling the purposeof their morning.

cactus guts must be a nourishment. they do not appreciate me stepping in their tracks. i never appreciate the invasions of legs and flesh. we are equal.

this morning, the sidewalks were clear. cacti guts were still intact, no sweetness to haul back to the territory, unirritated legs enjoy the warmth of the sun while it is still bearable.

Pt. II

I wonder if the cacti guts are sweet like fruit, what is the proper term for cacti guts in the first place. One block west, approximately nine steps from the curb, i usually look up from the sidewalk and dart my eyes to something in the distance the sight of cacti guts usually means the ants are nearby.

there were no ants this morning.

instead, just near the curb- a pigeon lay headless no blood dripping, almost with perfection. i saw this site twice in one morning.

i didnt want to look, but i did- hoping it was an act of instinct, pertaining to animals.

i just hope it wasn't my species that left the bird decapitated, easy food for predators who lead with their bellies.

Pt. III

The pigeons are praying again three blocks east they stand on ledges and white lines in parking lots cooing in unison i guess every species has their own routine .

maybe this routine is similar to a prayer. i wonder if they were cooing for the bird, decapitated and lifeless nearest the curb.

Pt. IV

ants and pigeons, walking and gas stations. yes - they are all components of a  morning ritual.

[vertebrhea]

red eye flight: third eye clarity

fr. this perspective, flying high altitudes that keeps vultures intact,

the land is scraped in lines of patched ground. some wheat some sod dividers mimicking stretch marks

mother nature has stretched to her wits end fr. this level , the same position of pupils and poultry , we witness her sorrows

some one brillant once told me that sorrow creates the most beautiful things

she carved mountains fr. an aching heart then left crumpled cumulous clouds to bear witness of her mourning . in the morning , red eye flight viewing life fr. this high

makes the meditation portion much easier . nothing irrelevant has grounds for complaints so..

all lovers without valid purposes | out of season frustrations with the working world for being the working world arguments that should have ended hours ago emphasis on topics that never concerned your welfare in the beginning

have no place for dwelling in a positive realm

that is where i have chosen to make my home ; in a positive realm . Glo says , " make your choice : you are choosing to be happy , or not to " i hear her voice echo back to me like a fleeting nightmare i never embraced during childhood . even in my silence, i murmur back to her : i am choosing to be filled with peace .

on this flight , i have learned on this flight , life's most strategic lesson has finally appeared to become a plasuabe concept to grasp --

it is never in the destination but the difference in your understandings while making your travels to where you were and where you are heading.