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Grassroots activist, feminist, sociologist, poop talk pro, future foster mom, travel whore, thrift store junky, music and food consumer.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

I Don't Like It Here

I don't like it here. This place of isolation is where my consciousness meets my fears & my ears catch my tears. I want out.
Out of this bondage created by memories of you holding me, spoiling me. Telling me how good I feel in the mornings. I want in.
Inside the safe space created above & below...your waist. Kisses I used to take for granted, I now crave to taste. Can't use my imagination to get away because every thought incorporates your face. I want out.

Out of this miserable condition. I'm so over listening to how you're too busy to visit. I need you up in this. Converting me into a contortionist, assuming any & all positions. Asking me questions while you're licking...got me cringing at the thought of you quitting. I want in.

Into this image that must be ignorance...because its bliss. I miss all of it. Laying in bed just talkin. Makes me love & hate to reminisce. It appears I'm ill equipped to deal with this distance. For instance...

My fingers keep trying to crawl into your teepee. I guess even they are tired of this misery. They keep telling me the game is hide & seek and I trust them just long enough to reach my peak.


But even they are tired of just managing. Told me this morning they were giving up their shananigans. I don't want to be forced into the arms of strange men but my rationales keep rearranging & my morals are fading. I'm in need of some changes.

I don't like it here. I want out of this and into you.

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