Search

thandekamwakipesile

Month

October 2016

You Can’t Define My Kinky

You can’t define my kinky.

You can’t put your finger on how I twist my braids like this

 You can’t define how my fish net stockings are not intertwined with your need for lust, I mean intimacy

You can’t define my kinky.

You can’t understand how I write words like this.

Nor comprehend why you’ll never understand why the way I’m made up is not for your articulation neither is it something you can touch.

It’s only to be admired.

 It is a Van Gogh on a New York Museum wall.

 It is the ruins of the Colosseum in Rome  Messed up enough to look ART .

 But not whole enough to be defined.

Abyss

I see myself

I’m by a river

It’s cold, the fog almost blinds me,

I look in the water trying to find you

Hoping that because the water is still

You are there just waiting for me to find you,

Maybe you’ve been there all along

It becomes a mirror, all I see is myself

Outside of myself

In the water
I don’t know why its been like this for so long

“The moon rolls over the roof and falls behind my house, I am not talking about the moon, I’m talking about myself.”

Curnow ‘s voice comes to me

And all the words of poets past,

Ones I once whispered to myself

They all speak to me, loud, all at once

They consider my distress my induction,

And then its too late, I realise I’m drowning,

Drowning…

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑