My Own Sugar Daddy, My Own Pimp

Some sex workers Are independent, self-employed Negotiating the game With the forgotten, or unenjoyed Wide lens teaches Wisdom settles into bed “Every partnership has its jail” Beneath the sheets, this soul does not shed It wins them no money Instead a kind of sustenance Sugar-coated power, control An energy here, in abundance Emotional currency Not…

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Lopsided Truth

truth shifts to trust with one required base pair reassignment. … trutH; drop the grand Hoax shush the lies to self and other sink back into your primordial slime reorganize, safely within your self-made cocoon. truSt; add the ultimate Sacrifice to give up who you are emerge with naked wings exposed trusting-self to know, who…

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PISTOLS, STAMENS, AND SPIKES

“The only way is to hug the cactus.” Her inebriated lips casually spill over his black denim-ed lap. “I guess this means you must hug me,” he speaks. “With each puncture, you will learn to breathe. My intent is not to hurt you.” {I am certain he seeks to not collapse into breath} She hears…

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A Sapling’s Tears

I carry an anthology in today’s everything bag. I pull it out while waiting for the next thing: coffee, the nurse to call me in, the bus to come, the sky to fall. Reading it exponentiates shared stories, raising internal voices, outing me into the crowd, the transport, the enshrined clouds. I find myself glancing…

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Silent Breakfast To Go

Whiskey sour. Whiskey sweet.  Wisk her heart. Beat her  Eggs into an om Lette her devour it From a thirstless hunger. You know best, After all. And yet, She knows enough Not to run on An empty storm   Ache.   __ photo by samane mohammadi on unsplash. om, n., a mystic syllable, considered the most sacred mantra in Hinduism and Tibetan…

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TICKLING CATASTROPHE

image from 1944 film Gaslight, starring Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer,  source: “What Does Gaslight Even Mean?“ __ can I stop by?I need a needle and thread to sew on a button. can I stop by? I need your advice. I stepped in. I had to.can you believe he would hit is own mother? can I…

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Kintsugi & T(h)ea

I find our tribal human mind will always fight against the heart, missing the soul of the matter at hand. Unless the steady mentor’s brush meets the tree’s gold-infused sap, patiently stroking our scars to rejoin us we remain broken, shards of ceramic tea pots, waitingto pair our bitter matchawith their coupled sweet. __ This…

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It’s All Poetic Justice Until We Lose Our Eyes

My story is so nearly relevant, I forget and roll my eyes. Devil in savior’s clothes.Chooses strong women to destroy.Feeds his need for power, not so much to enjoy.{climax} his ego & impatient impulsesblind him.  his triangulatedpitted fruits gather, withselfless, patient pistols restingat their soldier hips.Protests him out of town. {climax} Our storyHas a modern twist…

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