The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink

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feel me/read me/follow me

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It’ll be midnight soon
I would’ve washed the day off of my skin
and I would’ve had to scrub myself…
all the fast food
all the dirty thoughts
all the lustful glances…
and it still was’nt enough
because I STILL feel dirty

I’ll be asleep soon
or should be
I’ll be fighting it, laying in bed
listening to the cries of my baby sister
or the snores of my mother…
thinking of this moment, when I was violated by the steaminess of jazz
or maybe I’ll be thinking of an earlier moment: when I saw the one who makes my heart moan, for two seconds
and I ached to lick his lips and bite his skin
but I did’nt

It’ll be spring soon
and I’ll expect summer joy
which is absurd because I hate summer and I make summer miserable
I’ll be anticipating my twentieth birthday and of how it does’nt mean shit to me; I’ll be sweating bullets at night and in my sleep, super dehydrated
because I don’t drink enough water
now and then

I’ll be dead soon
but I can’t wait
to be released from this living hell
I hope I meet my heroes and my soul mate when I get There
I can’t wait to taste the neon blue of true liberation, the burnt flavor of freedom

So, until then
I write you this
letter, note, poem…
You, who I fantasize of living with in the afterlife
You, who I hope thinks of me the way I do of you
You, who understands my Love and wants to own my heart…
I hope…

Written : March 15, 2009
Feedback is appreciated

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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