#saphicoreoes

[saphicoreoes]

lines

There is a line crossed. 

A stray hand that should have never been raised. 

A voice that commands more than an idea: it threatens. 

It breaks the boundary of words and steps into the nightmare. 

My lines are my castles. 

Your presence are the dragons that break the rules of war. 

How can I ever rebuild?

[saphicoreoes]

Poem 2

I am slain

      desecrated

Mounted on a wall

        cut open

My soul handing loose for all to see

       Beneath my display reads

“She is happy”

[saphicoreoes]

Consume

There’s the message.

The maker.

The music.

The message is thematic, the text and otherwise.

The maker, creator of the message, gives it grammar. Context, pacing to the ideas. 

The music is alone. Alien, without climate, or perhaps free to live at context in of itself.

A handful of lenses, each, blocking out light so that only a select wavelength pushes though. To be examined, questioned, and personalized under the file cabinet of my mind.

What high place of privilege am I, that I need not ponder. That I am safe in chosen ignorance, from an injustice not taught and a norm I need not question.

I consume the light, mindless of what forms it

[saphicoreoes]

female friendships

We   and   you are separate

United in conflict 

Surrounded you are   ours to stand against

Our voices amplify each  other:  echo mirrored thoughts. 

In this chamber we, are free to roam, never in danger of leaving our collective front. 

We let   you in hungry

ready to feast on your mistake

“I’m still here.” I tell     you. 

My voice sounds like the rest. 

[saphicoreoes]

Poem 1

There’s noting like being trapped as yourself when surrounded by others.

                           Nor the freedom to be anyone alone.