amphibi.us

I want to write things for you. New things. For you. For you in your regular house with its regular lawn and its perpetual paint on the walls that keep the day to day in check.

Where everything for you is expected I want to be there fucking it up for you. A hole in the drywall. A gouge in the hardwood. A scab in your mind.

I want to consume your waking; a high-pitched tone, a rumble, a rape, driving you insane you’ll

mow the lawn in crosscut patterns.

kick the dog when nobody’s looking.

swear at the people you love most

I want you making secrets behind the locked

bathroom door

basement door

garage door

New things that destroy you. I want to write what I’ve never yet written. I want you to feel the words scrape your skin. I want you drowning, inverted, incapable of speech: crying.

I want your dick hard.

I want you to regret the day you begged. I want you to beg me to make it stop. I want you to regret getting what you wished for.

I want to see you broken with it.

I will write those things for you.

New things.

© xtx, 2009

[others]

It°s me,
Vagina, boobs
But the short hair,
The t-shirt, the hat
Make those words stumble out her mouth
¹This is the women°s bathroom, yeah?¹
I can hardly rest while in this cold room
The judgments of the inhabitants bouncing off porcelain
Who fucking cares what toilet I sit my ass on?
Yes, sit. Can°t stand; no dick

Why are we still segregated by something we have no control over?
Maybe because we are cowards
Who would rather crouch than stand tall
It¹s still binary, ones and zeroes
Reminding us not so nimbly
That we can°t all be heroes
Especially if we¹re womyn

Bringing us back down to the solid ground
Smack in the face
By the impossibility of gender neutrality
We debate in classrooms, on podiums, in front of state capitols
But why do we care what parts we decide to appreciate?
What clothes we decide to wear?
Don°t be scared we are all still human.
Some just uncomfortable
Like moist one piece sweat suits
In the body they were given

We can¹t all be you, Betty
White picket fence
2.3 children
9 to 5 cubicle working husband
Who secretly bitches about you with the guys at the water cooler
Cheats on your ass with the dog walker
And can°t make you orgasm even if his life was on the line
Oh the jealousy
Of the pre-packaged life
But what good is it
With no instructions?

Remember when I loved you?
When you weren¹t afraid to love me?
When you were still that gleam of light
In a dark room of developing photographs
When you knew that a womyn°s curves were a blessing
Not a curse
That they held the deepest lust for a human imaginable
Does he see this beauty?
Does he know you lie when you say you love him?

You aren¹t broken my lady,
Just under the assumption that going against the grain
Would scratch your pedicure and dirty your blouse
Its okay though
I understand
I mean who°d want to live a happy honest life
Without a real man?

Someone to provide for you
So you can keep your peripheral vision from seeing the possibility
Of being the womyn you want to be:
Self-sustaining

©

© Brit Alverson, 2009

[others]