Livid textures of some long passed memory that we've been holding on to with our nails bending... Distorted figures that want to **** Us, in the dark, then surreptitiously leave before daybreak as if love was a vampire stuck on Punani and a little bit of head. Yet, still we growwww (inhale) like heavy thick wood dug Deep into earth tryna reach for the sun and pierce the universe with French tipped fingers gripping unto moons, only to relapse into cosmo birth. Bellicose verbs wrap round our fat bellies, like "Leave" "Stay" "Run" "**** him" All that we want is to cloud the skies for a minute and Rain down heavy on the entire world, or just carpet the dirt on the ground and make that long walk home easy, for him- Saturated by simple images, like being Woman was a song and loving Man was easy, or being simple was all we got, and being complex and multi faceted too masculine. Everything in us wants to Claw and Rip through convulsions like ecstasy and just be Hard, and Soft and Difficult and Eeeasy. Everything in us wants to glove and protect that thing in us that won't reach home, like regret. Like a tepid note that keeps hitting dull-like, Screwing with every relationship we attempt, validating the Swoosh in our steps, or the Weak in our beds- "just give it to him quick, before he turns his heads"- Comfort food, and an additional Twenty-five ponds for loving a fool who couldn't understand the dirt in our finger nails if he tried...Clawing the earth like we tryna unsurface some great treasure, loving men that don't seem to understand forever, giving up tomorrow, like today would be any better, winning stretch marks, and becoming a Woman. Proper.