dere are terrible nights dat bring us longing
ah am reminded of thousands of men movin’ready ta risk stability an sanity
for a feigned intimacy
a fleetin’ embrace
ah am one- have been one bent over park benches in a stupor beggin’ ta be plowed
by fantasy men
possessors of dicks de size of mah shoes
ah know truth well
have been wid it while questioning wat darkness could bring …
wat solace may be had in final closings …
if dis fuck would bring closure …
an wat exctasy may be had in a release while holding an tasting seas of misery some piece left on mah tongue …
if fate had planned me doom long ago …
in truth- ah wanted ta be held
an care of
in truth ah wanted ta be seen past nail polish,
hip switch an’ halleloo
ah came ta dis darkness ta get feeling
despite bein’ warned
despite bein’ seein’ evidence of de contrary in rape scenes, suicide attempts, White men playin Risk wid Black skin, luring sin an’ manipulation
he asked where mah voice had gone
“how could you lay here both wanting an unimpressed? why don’t you sing when we touch?”
skin intimate indeed.
ah hold mah skin
in respect an’ disgust.
skin is contraband.
an’ spiritual ground.
ah should have used mah vision
ta see wat game dis was.
an opted out.
is real. is in need of holdin’
not another night in de hidden temple.
not in need of another night of exchanging death in ejaculation.