My poem called Imma get a Companion Pet

Sitting here crying 
Tryna figure out am i really happy
Can i continue to hold my head up with pride as the tears remain falling knocking me down from this place 
Do i even need to say grace
Ive been eating excuse after excuse
Double dipping in a bowl full of depression 
Mixing with a splash of over thinking
Washing it down with regret and desperation 
Screaming that im happy alone admitting to myself that im a fake
Im scared of the loneliness its slowly fucking killing me
Ripping out my sanity as i hear them laughing and surrounding me
These walls 
These fucking walls they are taunting me 
Please stop this 
Please
Ill stop lying 
Im not happy
Ill tell my therapist on Wednesday and hopefully by Sunday ill be closer to you my companion, my friend.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Date or Meet Up ( Short Erotica Story)

  Once upon a time, there was a beautiful black fairy princess that was once under lock and key. Then one day her mind started racing and fingers started chasing vowels and syllables, lower cases and uppers! She finally snapped!! Before she could take it all back, she became finally free with the tap of the send button. Sent. With one word her life changed in an instant. 2 day became 3 and the more time apart she started to see things differently. “Sub space, sub space,” running through her head on replay. “Fuck”, she screams as the tears keep falling. Phone drier than a mutha fucker. Feeling like a sucker, she gets on Facebook just to kill time and see if she can find some new friends. “Swipe, swipe, x, ooo he real cute”, she’d say as picture after picture appear on her phone. “Let me see my matches”, she says as she silently wipe he tears. “Primal Dom”, she says out loud as she continue to view his pictures on his profile. “sub space”, she says out loud again. Pictures of stacks ...
Read more

My poem called Wednesday

I signed me and jae up for a class on Wednesday that I am going to go to as long as I'm still living. Breathing, maintaining my lousy dead end job. Perverted patient, manic aggressive attitude, my dump bucket of a car that eases my anxiety everytime it gets me to and from any of my dump uncalculated impromptu destinations. I'll even be 20 minutes early on Wednesday as long as hell doesn't freeze over, trump doesn't succeed and build his wall. I dont win the power ball millions, my son father doesn't turn back straight, my exes finally admit that they wasnt shit, my brother finally does  go to therapy. I dont win 20 chess games in a day or I just dont over sleep. Shit I may have spoken to soon........... Ughhhh my son and I have therapy that day.
Read more

My poem called Master (bdsm)

Fuck me like you mean it.  Slap my ass when I dont obey a command that I was giving.  Hold my arms high above my head connecting them to black rope signaling that this is about to get real. Bark "woof" Bark louder bitch you say as u slap my pussy.  Use me like the whore I told you I'd be.  Forget that from 9 to 5 Monday through Friday I am your boss.  May I speak mister?  I ask just so we know the roles that are being played.  Slay me ravish me like the slut that i yearn to be but cant be.  To strong to admit that i can be made to submit if only someone took the time to get to know me.  Yank me by the hair force your tongue down my throat and your fingers in my holes.  Tearing down all the walls and defenses I put in place so something like this would never fuck happen.  Bite my nipples left then right. Squeeze so tightly that I start to have a spasm.  Screaming out your name you start sucking on my ni...
Read more