After Hours

Why do I even bother? Lost causes. Wasted energy. Hula hoop hope in a horned mind with separation anxiety from my imagination. Reality is a ruse in rose colored glasses tinted by the blood of my youth and my thick femininity. Who cares anymore? It is what it is and truth shows up more than lies and even in the abandoned secrets of the dark, depravity never seems to win the race even when it’s the fastest.

Maybe I’m looking in the wrong corners or what’s there is like the spider, it’s more afraid of me than I am of it……so they say. It’s lyrics that linger and life that sweats it out like the fevers that blanket my mind. Dreams of the day and of the night seem to be spread thin with anything left over from the sticky knives that stayed in longer than they should have.

Who the fuck let them in anyway? I don’t seem to recall the when or the why but those demons sure do like to play around and never ever seem to walk. All they do is fucking talk. Swollen plastic egos all produced and protected by words. Just words. That’s it. Powered and fueled by the lust of it. The need for it. The candy coated moon and stars swallowed down deep. Every last opulent drop as I became the night’s concubine because the day couldn’t handle me anymore. A Madame of mischief and melancholy mused by anything pretty or sinister. All alone but never without. Searching for something but finding nothing. Temptations allowed but mirrors don’t let them stay.

Honeyed rain on my tongue as it drips down my succulent spirit collected and cupped by my poor soured soul. How sweet it could be, the nectarous sludge of my fantasia but, the shinny always wears off. Pain is constant so why not learn to like it? It helps when you don’t care and you lose track of time and it’s unimportant, until it is. The end, the beginning, they both taste the same to me in this life. My life. Tracked and traced though desire. A conundrum of sensibility. Affection coveted and paid for with feeling and sensitivity. Trapped with intelligence wasted on the loneliness that sits next to me on the couch. Drained by devotion and fascinated with anything other than what’s in front of me. Color me curious and feed me with entertainment. Kept craving with an appetite that is too four star for this world. Extra terrestrial eagerness seems to be the constant curse I am burdened with these day. There’s no fucking balance and self care is just a healthy Fuck You screamed in silence and begged for as soon as my eyes open to the moment they close. Day dream lipstick kissed on the recreational restroom mirror of my cognition just waiting for a message back. From the heavens or from hell, we’ll see who answers first.

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