Papa G And His Seven Chicks

that burly guy brushed his teeth at lunchtime
before hitting up Bee’s Diner and flex his left arm
so the 23 year old waitress could admire his muscles

I’d be walking with elephants at the same time,
wondering whether Papa G had climbed a pyramid at 3 am,
and coined some new Thai slang term for “hot chick”
but Papa G has tricks like no other,
he’d take thongs off with his teeth,
and unclasp bras and untie corsets with his eyes,
wedlock was a myth, if anything,
it was a key to wrong.
the diamonds injecting my finger weren’t really glowing anymore,
but he and his seven chicks did well as I wrote about sky funerals in Nepal,
and ate grapes with old Italian men
wherever Papa G was with his pecs,
hollowing dignity out of women, I couldn’t help but think of how
his touch on my skin used to physically hurt me

but Papa G has tricks like no other,
he’d take thongs off with his teeth,
and unclasp bras and untie corsets with his eyes,
wedlock was a myth, if anything,
it was a key to wrong.

Subs

this jazz plays on repeat

something couldn’t have let me sleep, I couldn’t eat
I let the bangles around my ankles
jangle
my underwear falls to my feet
and I submit.
twice I’ve walked around these roads
I didn’t know there was another path in the same road, in the same park
it’s funny how I can’t stand you running around
you know better than to do that,
other women put me down
and I submit.
the more I look at how my curves fall in deep
the more I feel the weight of my breasts fall without the support wired underneath me
the longer my lashes, the shaper my legs,
the wider my stare
I’m caught in your headlights,
unaware if you’re going to shoot me,
this doe is really your missionary, sub, she deserves it in missionary
and she submits.
clouds douse my eyes, your grey soul, soaked in pearl, smiles like testosterone, frowns like dominance,
afraid and knotting my hair
i feel the urge to give up it’s concentrated in the air
you better stop the things you do,
I’m not lying,
I fall apart
and I submit.

ALIVE ALIVE ALIVEEEEEEE

when I’m under my sheets

my legs look orange, and feel better
and when I don’t move
and when I don’t breathe
I enjoy the cork in my throat
don’t pop it out.
if every dime of energy was wasted on the current state I’m in,
I’d say I’m gaseous, I could have been ever changing like the shapeshifter in liquid’s fluidity
but now nobody can see me.
it’s colder these nights, sundown is earlier
I sit on ivy beds trying to figure out this life
And how my heart’s surface is smothered in pinheads, currently drilling the tissues with the prick of their needle beds,
and suddenly my stomach twists.
We’re speaking in different tongues, different bodies,
cursive you, passive me,
I can smell last night’s orgasm from a mile away,
And the rough touch of sunlight slapping me awake
The smooth resonating sound of rain lulling me back to sleep.
they’ve punctured holes in my sails,
my lungs are deflated, I let my underwear drop to the floor, I climb over his torso, I forget myself,
I’m allowed to,
it’s a chase away from the demon pulling the strings tighter on my corset.
it’s colder these nights, sundown is earlier
I sit on ivy beds trying to figure out this life
And how my heart’s surface is smothered in pinheads, currently drilling the tissues with the prick of their needle beds,
and suddenly my stomach twists.
lightning smothers me in my bed sheets.
rocks me, whispers, “go back to sleep”.