This blog is my creative portfolio that only has my original work, the sort of thing I could present professionally. While isitbatman is my personal tumblr of reblogs and selfies and casual interaction :)
I was born in a house on fire,
flame like a hand on my mothers throat.
A distaste of ash is left in my mouth
the dust on the wings on moths
pretending, to be butterflies.
The monarchs rise when I meet a man,
they stand to take a knee and bow-
a patriarchal kaleidoscope, swarm or rabble
manifesting itself as bile.
They say that a sensual touch is like a spark,
and man, in me does it start a forrest fire.
Wings beat free from the chrysalises made
by the caterpillars forced down my throat as a child
as they hid from the burning walls.
I don’t know if I can take another cocoon,
my stomach grows hard with string
spun out of copper wire caressing
with it’s sharp points and mutilating scars.
A two year old screaming as flames lick,
she doesn’t know that the world is ablaze.
The smell of the washing power on my jeans
Is the smell it was when I last kissed you
The sun was burning and cooking me here
And now it’s getting cool again and so am I.
It smells like a thousand years ago,
Like a whole ocean and like spice with a hint of vanilla.
Next time I wash these ill rinse away yet another memory of you
Another thing that pulls your smile to my mind,
And one day they’re won’t be anything there at all.