January

I’m afraid that the wake was last year instead of in fifty years 

To see my future is like a butterfly being able to see its metamorphosis

I can’t shake the feeling of absence in my gut , the lonesome I feel without a daughter or son 

Inside this mind I’m a terrible host 

Inside my mouth I have more words than consciousness

Inside this heart I’m a cannibal of peace 

As time ticks inadvertently,- 22 and with blue gray hair symbolizes fleshly changes 

but the soul should be a dear and cut me slack for trying .

        Trying to change Mars’s scope from my Earth,

I don’t believe in this world but the spirit quakes for more lifetimes

Voices want me to give up my womb ” but not too soon ” I say ,

The shunt in my cerebrum is my downfall, yet I can only breathe due to mechanical synapse embraces.

     O’ God ; the joy of fornicating, laughing, seeing and even smoking are the greatest blessings.

Yet I still feel bored 

What is this hunger ?!

Fortune teller advised me that this third eye should be closed 

I’m supposed to be a healer , A magnificent

A mother …..perhaps my time is running out but my darling says I’m still young .

    Truth is of the being – a rare breed due to this body is a chamber of losses, secrets,and beggar of Latin times.

I am as deep as Greece but strong as Artemis 

I am as hungry as Job, but the spirit seeks worldly desires.

            Nothing is everlasting

         except black skin and desert sand .

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