Black Poetry : s.e.x (long read)

daroc

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
May 16, 2004
921
38
Sex. Sexual adventures on land that are foreign but yet familiar. I do it backwards. I do it side by side. I do it in the middle. Before all else fails and all else comes into existence. I do it. I sex him. Breaking codes of ethics and morals... I don’t want to fall for him. Don’t want to fall in love with him. I just want to be in between his miseries and fantasies... in between his blanket of hope and retreat... in between his hellos and good bye... and in between I want him... I let him... Take vacations in between my thighs. Because I can. Because I can. because I can doesn’t always mean I should but because I shouldn’t doesn’t always mean I would.. If he was here. And if he was here then maybe I wouldn’t. Need to write this. Explain this. Recite this. Rework my explanations in words and sentences that come to simple meanings for complex emotions of my backwardness. How I like to eliminate the frustration. The I am shy... I don’t want u to touch me... I don’t know how to let you in... Don’t know how to let u love me... don’t know how to release and rewind... or just let go and give in. I like to skip all that. You see my body is not my fortress. My body is not my fortress. It is not my controller... not my destroyer... not my quick fix. It’s not me. It’s my coverage. My cover... my coverage. Do you hear me, my body is not me, it’s my coverage... it’s the outer portion that seems to label me not enough feminine... yet sexy. Yet wanted. Yet freaky... yet woman. Yet different. Yet human. It’s my image. Your image of me. It’s not me. It’s not me... it’s my coverage...



And so I like to do it backwards... skip a few steps here or there. Learn his last name first. And his first name last... because I will always remember what I called him at night... but you see skipping steps of mental connectivity to physical abilities doesn’t determine me. It doesn’t limit me. It propels me. It fuels me. It gives me fire to drive and drive to spit fire. It inspires me. You have no idea why. Let me educate the. See skipping steps on... what and how did I put it... mental connectivity... only allows those worthy of my mind to captivate me. The coverage can take anything I need. But the mind and soul I need to stay strong for me. No imposters who don’t care for me. No busters who don’t love me. No lonely no empty no foolishness no pity... no room for neither or either or other or...and. no room for conjunctive phrases that connect the weak with me. My outer can absorb all the flakes. And fakes and the lies. All the cheating. All the crying. All the schemes and all they deny. My mind will never fall to the games. Because I skip steps. Let them in to the most important last and the best... well of course it’s always the best. I let them into the best when I am in need. I am full of greed... searching for answers to my hormone driven dreams and false hopes of the next him being the best him, instead he is only another him before he.



And yet I continue... I continue this way... hopping past obstacles... and frustration. Eliminating the dating thing. Or the I want u to get to know me thing. Moving past all the bull****... all the phony I want to impress you ****... quick lies and long nights... I miss u phone calls and baby comes over please... nonsense. Al that leads up to only the same thing I give. In avoidance of that entire why do I care... ****. Why did I let him in and let him move me ****. nah... all that I would rather skip. Just fulfill my craving and move him on his way tip... if... he last more than the lies stated before he put in... Before he called ... before he walked in, my life and messed up my day by throwing desire my way... if he last past.



And let’s say he does. Let’s say the night we spent only pulls me in... After he has satisfied my coverage... been in service... after he awakes the next day next to me. By my side... not inside me. But by my side next to me. Under me. Near me... hugging... kissing... loving... cuddling... with me. Because last night sent me to moons on planets that don’t exist... and had me counting stars for all the lost minutes... I spent in his universe. If he can take me away from all this hate... all this blame. All these freedom lies and injustice lives died for a land claimed free by the man who lied. If he can take me away from fear... into his realm of serenity. Away from hope but closer to possibility... then he has lasted a night. And spent years in my soul. Implanted his name on my mind... and forever created a place to move beyond the physical. Beyond the cover. Beyond the mold... beyond my alive sneakers, red pumps wearing only sum times, make up n mascara having... I lug it clean look. My outer appearance created to mask the illusion of my insides being more than bruised, more than swollen, but golden. Diamond encrusted rough and majestic. No shape. No distinct me. Just rustic. Then maybe if he last pat that night he will enjoy the site of all to see....



Because all to see is more so read than envision. More so wrote than spoken. More so in front of him everyday in my speech, in how I am broken... how each sentence is broken... yet fixes me. How my poetry fixes me. How he inspires me. Writes that corrode my brain with emotion... only outlet is a quick fix for me. Poetry. Because u see I already got the best physical connection he could ever b. ever give me. So what’s left is this mind interaction. My interaction with the word... with the voice... the letter. Each letter... and him. And him. allowing him. Allowing him to hit the draw bridge... and cross the mote. And tame my castle. To roam my caste. And await the thrown. In my mind... on the path to my soul.



That’s why I skip steps... wouldn’t you. As a poetess my beauty lies in my mind not my body... all else is to be determined... wink.
 
daroc:
As always you penned an awesome piece.
I really dig the way you express yourself in
your poetry and I am feeling your every word
here as I can relate to every syllable.


"My body is not my fortress. It is not my controller... not my destroyer... not my quick fix. It’s not me. It’s my coverage. My cover... my coverage. Do you hear me, my body is not me, it’s my coverage... it’s the outer portion that seems to label me not enough feminine... yet sexy. Yet wanted. Yet freaky... yet woman. Yet different. Yet human. It’s my image. Your image of me. It’s not me. It’s not me... it’s my coverage... "

I too feel this way. Very well stated.

Thanks for the awesome read.

Much Luv
 

Donate

Support destee.com, the oldest, most respectful, online black community in the world - PayPal or CashApp

Latest profile posts

HODEE wrote on $$RICH$$'s profile.
$$RUCH. SO COOL.VBRO. WHAT MY bornday. Again. Destee. June. U didn't call. Phone me. I'm loosingbit. In my dopamine euphoria. None stop. I send my new pic. Noylt. Me. That guy. Wears 1x. I wear.b3x. Ok love Destee Fam. Errors I don't care ok. Love
Destee wrote on MANASIAC's profile.
I saw you ... :yaay: ... Welcome Home! ... :flowers:
Back
Top