OPEN PARADISE

I will make you believe everybody is your enemy, including your own.

I have a vanity medusa couldn’t hold-still you believe I am tender as the whisper I lay during entry. The hardness and hot brutality that leaves you limp and perspiring. You are the canvas for my perversions categorized as art.

I teach conviction behind saying sorry and convince you that you are.

You like it messy, so when I clean up, lapping like a dog, our wild, howling pillow talk fixes you for days. You wine for me to put you down. I inject and shoot.

I admit to what you know. Nothing damning. We are already a calculated lie. As we give ourselves wholly to each other-what will we have left.

You wake up early to start my day, getting right to the business of making house. Upping how our parents did-straight on down with your freedom, your head, body, eyes. Burying selfishness alive.

You break, so I take one too, cracking legs, smelling the rush of a heart about to be broken. I plug loves openings.

You will piece it together. Trembling, replacing jagged shards from a mirror, resembling a truth you want to face. A past, time, image you wish to save. When it was better, and you were treated/ prettier than them all. Now you keep your distance. Barely moving, so your flaws won’t be noticed and get you cut. You were once the leader of a team that kept me on point. Now your softness-excluding the parts I enjoy; lips, breast, ass- let us slip and fall apart.

You settle for how it was and set yourself back to be overlooked.

I take advantage, of this shortcut towards loneliness, widening the path you found me on, where you planted scented bushes to distract my way/ towards dependable comfort/ hosting shady shadowy copulation on wanderer’s lane. Anyone stepping foot, was ambushed.

I tip-toe before running to perform. Entertaining an audience at a location you’re not informed of. Only downer of the party is maneuvered by my hands.

I suit the habits of your body. And I dress, look, and speak the part to enter.

I keep my friends distant because I love spiritually, mentally, happily, depressingly deep and no one measures up. Not anymore. I hide my dirt in plain sight in order to keep my privacy. I won’t let you to change that part of me. If you try, we won’t survive the struggle.

I know/ you also have sacred moments; Keep them- or I will use them against you. When you hesitate, like a killer asking to be given a different peace, you desire becoming a memory.

You want real love like Mary J. Then Ms. Lauryn teaches you it doesn’t exist in an environment of anxiety and you need to fix yourself to be happy, in love with yourself and second to none, then you will be the one.

You try to avoid going down. Stairs, elevators, hills. Because they symbolize whatever the fuck going down symbolizes. You wish you could stop thinking. Alcohol becomes your medicine. Drugs become your healer. You walk up the stairs. You can’t remember how you got here. You are scared, you try to escape. You wake up in the hospital-pissed- to be alive and alone. You doze away. Remembering your kids.

You play songs of heart break. Dollie Parton, Shirley Brown, Carrie underwood, The Weekend, D’angelo-reciting an original from pain

“You don’t make me feel how you used to. Just used. Is it because I don’t feel like I used to? Well neither do you. But I stayed a believer, bought into a new and improved you, knockoffs are never worth the time. I ignored my instincts and we fell apart soon as I took you in”

G.