We got high in the hot tub,
passing each other the joint
as I tried hard to avoid your eyes.
The pull was undeniable,
breath taking from its intensity.
My head spun;
I couldn't tell if it was the weed
or your energy.
This type of contact
scared the shit out of me.
The feeling of a cataclysmic event
on the horizon,
something almost unnatural
in its power.
A hurricane and volcano colliding.
Volatile in its beauty.
Who the hell
wouldn't be brought to their knees?
I want to flee
and yet I cannot move.
I want to bring up
every guard and firewall
while pleading to let myself give in.
Quietly falling to ruin,
I pray to god and the devil both.
About the Creator
Ana Perseski
A lover of all things strange.
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Men holler at me as I walk down the street
Men holler at me as I walk down the street and my body burns like a building. Invisible steam is rising from my ears, scorching heat is blistering my ribs with every heartbeat, soot is blinding my vision. This rage could destroy a planet. Every violation flashes through my mind in the space between seconds. Eve taking the first fall, labeled seductress, siren, witch, sinner, ruiner. Every time a fertile womb was used to chain a woman's freedom. The word hysterical spat like a diagnosis. The floor length skirts. The rope bonding her screaming form to the stake. The body that was never hers. Every baby who had to feed under a blanket. The body that was never hers. Every bottle of pink lipstick mace. The keys clenched between knuckles. All the unwelcome hands taking what was not given. Every she was asking for it, she should have known better. Every rape kit growing mold because these things take time honey, unfortunately that's how the system works. Every bodysuit pair of spanx under guard uniforms, just in case. Every black eye dealt after too much bourbon. Every where's my dinner, bitch. The earnings that are always less, no matter the intellect or the hours worked. Every doctor who rolled his eyes, you're too young, what if you meet the right person? What if he wants kids? The audacity to govern her own body made into something criminal, crowds chanting killer, the click of handcuffs echoing into history. Men holler at me as I walk down the street and my body burns like a building.
By Ana Perseski4 years ago in Poets
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart7 days ago in Fiction
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