I didn't like how it felt to be idle
at least, when it came to the things I wanted
physically I had no certain problems staying still
but I hated not being able to grasp the reality of imagination
dreams were pointless if they never became solid

he never really understood all it took to be a woman like me
to do the things a woman like me is expected to do
maybe people expected little from him
but people expected greatness from me
anything less wasn't exactly a disappointment
at least, by name
just raised eyebrows and snark chides of
'hey ... didn't you used to be a writer?'

the truth is I can't write pretty anymore
I think I lost it somewhere back in November
guess a poet was only something
 I was supposed to be back then
for a while
maybe it comes in phases
lately I've been stumbling out piss poor excuses
I keep telling everyone are the beginnings of my second book
when really they're just shitty excuses for shitty emotions

and God keeps sending me these signs
messages I can't really read
so he keeps sending them back around
only I was never any good at deciphering
always needing everything spelled out eight times
defined twice by webster
each syllable stressed
used in a sentence

He keeps sending me all the things I asked
and maybe I'm so blind I can't see them
so I just send them home packing
or walk right on by them somewhere downtown at 2am
or maybe I just mistook that one night on the Strip
for divine intervention when really all it was was sex
the bed hadn't been that comfortable
but it'd been nice to sleep next to someone
called myself a fearless woman, sensual, seductive even
taking her power back
maybe all I really was
was just alone

and hey
I think
it's nice not to be

there's a stickiness in my apartment
sometimes in bed I feel needles tapping my skin
somebody's grandmother would probably say
that's the price you pay for letting some man inside you
letting men sleep on sheets in homes
where they've paid no rent

the sin is piercing your skin, she'd say
well I'd say, maybe I'm just begging to be touched

I'm starting to understand why people drink vodka
with three ice cubes swirled around
maybe it's odd that everything is going right in life
and I'm more inspired than I've ever been
sexually free, intellectually stimulated, abundantly blessed

but my skin still itches though
It's just ... I was never any good at waiting
     I guess I never really cared for a life that moves slow

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