aeIronic how most of the time I find myself quite frightened of decisions I have yet to make, of places you have yet to be, situations you have yet to fall into. As though worrying about them as early as now will make any difference when I actually come upon them. It’s frightening how life can stretch onwards, far beyond me. All these possibilities. And so many of them too..

We are never entirely sure what happens in the end and it’s such sweet comfort. Ignorance is bliss. Knowing where one should be without knowing exactly where one will be. Grey office cubicles, the dizzying technicolor of parenthood. 

Right now, it doesn’t matter. 

We can live off booze and a few kisses here n there. Maybe meet new people along the way. Making sure to stop at every sign post but not truly making way to any destination. Incredibly vibrant with an unquenchable thirst to experience so much of everything. Biting off more than we can actually chew. Self destructing because it’s somehow romantic. Reconstructing for the same reason we self destruct. 

But some days are no adventure.

Some days you wake up mouth dry, aching for more sleep. Trudging across tuna fresh marble floors. Sighing at your emails. The tedious task of keeping sane. Earning money to buy things you’re convinced will make you happy. Mistaking every toxic romances for bittersweet love affairs. 

For youth, life is a series of innumerable days. 

We never count tomorrows because they are sure to come. We have too little yesterdays to regret any ongoing to-days. And so we spend it. Our fractured weekdays to build an uncertain future. Allowing ourselves to be gears in a machine that won’t stop for us. Becoming an employee number. Losing our weekends to sleep and reckless feats of deprivation. Because only youth can make any form of self ruin beautiful.

After all, we have countless decisions we have yet to make, untold places we have yet to be, innumerable situations we have yet to fall into.

Again, time to start anew.

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misdemeanor

so here’s to the drunkards
, the junkies
, the spit of the gossip
, the joke of the crowd
, the godless
, the insane
, the outcasts

here’s to the dirt of the spectrum
, the artist in boardroom
, the jazz player in a grey suit
, the actor in a costume
, the motley crews
, the dreamers
, the visionaries of a far away future.

here’s to the dying art
here’s to the living dead
here’s to the average man
here’s to his average breath

only

And here I am again, toes frozen on the cracked earth beneath my feet scarred by wine red glutton. Yes, I’m here again. I had painted my lips bright scarlet, bitten cyanide after cyanide of the woman you like your woman to be. Just the way a woman must be.Have got to be the woman that I have to be. Skin borne off silk and velvet -bare for kisses and glances and admiration that leaves nothing for the woman that I can be. Fingers soft and helpless to yours. Hair a perfect wave, an iridescent curve to your achievement. Just the way that I should be. Just the way a woman must be.

I am only woman. That is all I have to be. No more angry steps up staircases leading to where black suits play and ride in silence between their scotch and their brandy and their beer. Between a man and the boy, that I can love and have. I am only just a woman. That is all I must be and have to be. Beautiful and gentle. No malice. No games. Just elusive conundrums of heart and the soul a man can pursue to gain. I am just woman aren’t I?

But that is not all that I can be.

the damned

Down, down, down
By the river I cast
my shadow, my glance, my face

Wave, after wave, after wave
After every gallant peaceful wave
I see more smoke and pebbles
above my grave

But it doesn’t matter truthfully
what the heavens demand nor
what hell for me awaits

So long as I know
and I know only what we all know
that we are the damned
and damnation is only ours
to take.

With all honesty, I am far more than the cushion of sanctuary you think me to be. I offer no comfort, no warmth. No illusion or sense of belonging. 

I am not a home for you to rest your worries on. I am not the remedy to your depravity. 

I am not your woman. I will never be. I refuse to love and be loved by weak men who want to possess all of me. 

You will always be hungry and I am not the kind who strives to satisfy. So find yourself another lady. One who was never wild.