sweet baby love child

the joy of my world
lies in traces of white
lace flowing throughout
the channels of your
developing genesis;
lace not of fabric, but
of a womans will to
push reality into the
rear view mirror of her
lifes pains.
shes contaminating
the soil of a seed id be left
to sow with rusty tools leftover
from past gardeners whom
never were in full attendance
for the duration of
her crops harvesting.
bending over on hands
and knees depict the
tangible existence of
bodily pain and
thickly clad calluses
become rough bandages
placed over exposed wounds
to obscure bruises that
seep deep into hands of
mine used to reap
your soul.

recollections of nights
scattered with the image
of the dimly lit hallway
from my twin bed to your
crib is illuminated in
my mind for i cant
forget trudging out
of sleep to walk past dawn
following the path of your
pleas to be held,
watered,
nurtured.

my eyes screaming to be
closed;
your screams muffling
these.

in my arms i learned
to cradle once more,
your head resting in the
curved comfort of my neck
and shoulder.

time,
i
and
love
stood
still
as she persisted
to sleep out of life
and he was in a place
of confinement as punishment
for senseless violations.

no title, no quote, just raw remembrance of pain

[november.6.2007.7:44pm]



my heart thrown to its
death upon your room
floor while from my loose eyes,
tears poured themselves
into the fibers of the carpet
and i knelt to blot the
bloodshed of my core
from staining my pain's
existence on your record
as proof of you murdering
my soul that i extended out to you
yet another time.

your envy was boiling
in the pools of your
eyes, burning any
softness they ever pretended
to hold in regards of me.

your
face became characterized
with the turning up of the corners
of your mouth;
pleasure and amusement
danced amongst the curve of
your lips.

seeing you smile
in reaction to my
pain spilling out from
my tongue,
my hand gestures,
my tears

made me
get up and
slap the shit
out of you with
the palm of my
damn hand.

my palm stung,
but it was aught compared
to next being slammed between
you and the door,
lower body dangling
as your hand became
tightly,
vilely
wrapped around my
throat.

you squeezed the
cry out of me and
my fight of reason.

because the
stars say that air
fuels fire.



but im all
out of breath.