BROKEN
I'm Broken.
Can't you tell?
Maybe you can't.
Not behind all the expensive Bobbi Brown Make-up,
128 dollar Hair cut, dye job, and a few highlights
every six weeks, Tahari Suits, Ralph Lauren Jeans.
Daddy never understood.
Once you break,
Your never the same.
The pieces just don't fit like they use to.
But daughter, you'll be fine,
Just get a good job, nice car, beautiful apartment,
That Ph.D. is all you need to find happiness.
And if you smile sweetly, cross your legs, use the right fork to
eat that ten dollar salad.
Your prince on a white stallion will come and save you.
And all the pain of all the previous lovers who helped to break
you will be washed away.
I'm broken
Can't you tell?
Well maybe I do trust you,
Just a little.
But maybe you should keep those hands to yourself
Until I know for sure
Your not like all the others
Abandon me, lie to me, not good enough, pretty enough,
Thin enough, swear at me, your psycho.
Your just NOT PERFECT ENOUGH.
I'm sorry, I'm Broken.
Please don't be ashamed
Please understand
I've traveled alone broken
I'll keep traveling this way alone
But maybe, if you so choose to hold my hand along this journey
Remember the road I walk is rough,
My spirit shattered.
I'm Broken
Can you tell?
One single bright flourescent
bulb glowing into blackness. I can't see your face, I can only hear the
sound of
your
rustling clothes and savior the aroma of your scent as it rushes me from
behind. I land on hard, cool cement. My arms pinned behind my head. Fuck
me you bastard. Fuck me hard. So hard I bleed. I want to hear your sneer
as your lips curl into that cruel sadistic smile you love to show me. Spit
in my face. I am your whore. Bruise my lips, bite my neck. Use me, I am
your pursuer. It is not your fault. It can only be mine. This is not meant
to last. This is for right now. So do it. Fuck me. Don't say you need me
because it is a lie. All lies, lies, lies. It's either your kiss, or your
fist in my side. I want to feel ectasy for one moment. I want to feel closer
to God. You are the only one who can make this fantasy real. Rip it. Grasp
it. Suck it. Come on, Fuck me. I'll let you win this wicked game. Just
give me something in return for the pain. One single bright flourescent
bulb glowing into blackness. Your eyes are daggers looking straight into
mine. I am tranced. I can not look away. I see your soul. Can you see mine?
Don't stop. What are you afraid of? Love, hate, what? Just Fuck me. No
commitment. No goodbyes. No I'm sorry. Kick me. Beat me. Touch me. Hiss
into my ear. Call me your slut. Tell me I'm ugly. Say you hate me. Fuck
me. Come on me. But never tell me the truth. What do you want? What do
you need? For just this moment let me in. Tommorow you'll be hers, but
tonite be mine. I want to feel your hand roughly between my thighs on my
breast. I want to feel you in me. Wet, warm, powerful. Turn me over, turn
me around. I want to be close to you, in you. Fuck me. Laugh at me bitterly.
Use me. Your flesh is burning me. The sweat soaks into the dust. I am on
fire. Please, Don't stop. I'm almost their. One single bright flourescent
bulb glowing into blackness.
I stand. You have gone. I am lost. Forever, without you.
I love you.

Searching, stumbling, drooling
Midas and his touch of gold
The hazy sun filtering down upon the valley
The eighteen hour days
The chips, wires and plastic
Molded and twisted together
The soft hum whispering from a square concealed box
It lulls you to sleep
Echoing in your mind
It hums to the beating of your heart
It is what created your ability to buy that flashy car
All leather interior, CD player, twelve horse power
The sun reflects the beauty of the plastic machines
The lush, manicured lawns the symbol of fraudulent happiness
It comes with a price
Fraudulent happiness does not grow on trees alone
It burns like molten lava
It stings like sunburn on your worn and tortured back
Blistering and withering in the desert you cannot see
Among the promised oasis
How many throats did you slit in order to attain that euphoria of "happiness"
The Valley of the Sun
A place of dreams
Quietly bubble-wrapped and sealed priority, careful
Picture perfect
Ripe for the picking
Stock, investment, 401K,
Skinny Cappuchino, Double-Lowfat-Latte
Mixed greens with balsamic vinagrette
EMAIL Kristina WITH COMMENTS
ON "Poetry"
VISIT Kristina's
HP
RETURN TO GENRE INDEX
RETURN TO POETRY INDEX