Monday, June 23, 2008
With murder in my heart I wish death.
To carve away the excess to reveal her again, she who I ate to protect
With rhythms of the younger belly dancers jangle of hips, purple, red, gold
Veils, coins, seduction, lust has unseated me. She toys beyond my reach
Uprooted my deeply held illusion of self-beauty I became not good enough.
A fatal blow So in protest on strike I control the one thing left
my own lips
I never understood so clearly
Why cutting covers a greater wound