they say the bad girls ain’t no good

and the good girls ain’t no fun

said you’ve been looking for the one

love at first sight, love at first cum

say that you love me only when we fuck

this isn’t passion, this is lust

call it affection cuz we touch

my validation i entrust

in your tongue

you say you want me

say what you feel is strong, you just hungry

we don’t build the bonds, we just want the heat

and i invite you in so i can watch you leave

and we design the rides so that they always repeat

we arrive at denial of our carnal release

we climb to the rise till we’re on our knees

and we decline the platonic - we only want to be pleased

 —

let’s talk foreplay

sex for your brain

enter course of soul of soulmates

intercourse without penetrate

give me head, intelligent brain

metaphysical elation

finger through my vinyl crates

linger in lyrics of my page

push, hold, pause, pull

the patterns that we challenge conversations to go

the static we crack to liberate radios

give me mindsex, turn me on with your words

bring my mind to bed, turn me on without touch

the practice of attracting as we’re both fully clothed

undistracted, magnetic two spirits exposed

give me mindsex, turn me on with your verse

bring my mind to bed, turn me on with your love

confessions of me

professions of we

the pleasures we seek

are they pure or they fleeting?

the double standards of being enamored

got me holding lanterns for romantic measures

in search of the answer

to…

hush on the streets, there’s a hush in her heart.
drizzle hits the pavement, and each way she looks is dark.
she masks her fear of pending harm, pretends that all is well.
distracts her ears and sings a melody so softly to herself.
rain, rain, pounding.
streaking my face, soundless.
wash away the dirty prints.
wash away his drunken kiss.
‘cause i don’t like waiting on these steps no more.
no, i don’t like waiting on these steps no more.
waiting on doorsteps that have been tread by thankless pimps.
paying for no respect to liars with handshakes no more than limp.
she knows she’s beautiful, but those she’s trusted stole all the mirrors.
her love’s incredible, but domestic punches wore out her interior.
all ten knuckles bruised from knocking on doors that never open
green like the eyes of those that gaze her, blue like the only color of her mood.
vocal chords abused from calling down corridors of jokermen
mean like the guys who smiled to win her faith over, untrue like the only lovers she ever knew.
she’s cold and hard on the exterior, but full of love she keeps locked in.
she knows she’s far from inferior, but her trust is in handcuffs, and the key, boxed in.
love anonymous because it’s unrecognized by most she holds close.
love synonymous with recurring plight devoted to unholy ghosts.
she sings, knowing the world doesn’t listen, but hoping the melody will become learned.
she dances, alone but in liberated rhythm, hoping the routine in-spi-res.
heart like a hotel
guests come and go as they please
macks and hoes dirty the sheets
then check out and say “peace.”
the cost of love you can’t sell
cheaters make dough from loyalty
klepto’s take home free fantasies
then leave doubt at her feet.
she waits, on cold doorsteps, full of regrets, that never regress.
the weight, of the woe on her chest, pulls all that’s left, of her very best.
she knows, what they’d never say, wishes that true love would just stay.
praying for escape, from the rain, in parking lots she still waits.
the darkness refuses to fade; floor full with her heart’s remains.
hoping to soothe her own ache, she sings in hopes to part ways.
rain, rain, pounding.
streaking my face, soundless.
wash away the dirty prints.
wash away his drunken kiss.
‘cause i don’t like waiting on these steps no more, no more.
i’m done knocking, my knuckles done knocking, i’m done knocking on these doors.