Wednesday, February 16, 2011


Don't look at myself naked
My pussy is dry all night
My poetry is emptiness
Never alone, only inside

Get your hands off, now touch me
My words ruin my peace
I hide my consequences
I hide my consciousness

I hold the past responsible
Nightmares of rejection
My self worth and my self esteem
Are based on his erection

I use him as a punching bag
I eat up all the blame
I bottle up my happiness
And let out all the shame

I run away for pitty
I run away from rage
I fear the others' wisdom
Can't fucking turn the page

I push away the real
Running from reality
I run from realizing that
I run away from me

His name is very special
Commitment equals hope
Forgiving all unholiness
Taking down the rope

Trynna be my sanity
Him, trynna be fair
I am a Photoshop illusion
And he is sometimes worth my care

Kill me please
Or please just kill yourself
Self esteem
Pitty the liar
Take the pill yourself

Dawn at two horizons
Watch me pick flowers as a kid
I used to live in paradise
Now it's a big pile of shit

Forgive the empty girl
Filled with images of herself
Forget forget the guilty girl
She'll never love herself

by Aneka Brunssen

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Thursday, February 03, 2011


It is like a woman
to want to change a man -
and in this way
the fucking universe is a whore!

Tell me Julia,
has your luck run out?
Have the great hands of
sex worship
finally clamped down
upon your sagging,
hooded lips?
It is neither there,
nor here.
It is unlikely that things
have changed,
and even more unlikely
that you would have put
an end
to our communal misery.

Oh Julia!
My love for you is uninhibited.
You are every bit the
Virgin Mary
as you are the
Whore of Babylon.
You are my Delilah.
You have defaced my wisdom;
my arms;
and my curled black hair.

You have betrayed
me amoroso ojos por plata,
clipped my body of
its manhood
and left me
groveling in the dirt with
a limp dick
and a broken spirit.

Aye, Julia you could indeed
have been born in the
poorest valleys of
The Sorek,
but we shall let the
Book of Judges
be the true narrators.

by Justin Boutilier

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