Can I fall apart?
Like for a second can I not be strong?
For a minute can I just.
Could I let myself drop?
Smack, face down into the ground
And not pick myself up
Would that be so bad?
To fall apart.
I just kinda need to fall apart
To say everything by saying nothing
To sit in silent safety until I’m ready,
I told myself that what mummy doesn’t know won’t hurt her. That the loubs on her feet will be enough and won’t desert her even if I did. Though I weren’t there when she needed me and now I see that she needed me, I needed the streets because we needed to eat and me not being home just wasn’t that deep. And I was deep in it, and deeping it, it weren’t good for me. But I wasn’t doing this for me I was doing this for them, dreams at age 10 of being in the prem but life took out the R and I fucked around and nearly caught an M so life threw in an N and I landed in pen, and if I knew then what I knew now? Shit. Read more
It was cold. The middle of the winter usually is, but as Larissa tightened the flaps of her jacket around her neck she began to question whether this room was colder than it was outside. The air in there was different, thicker but cooler and every breath left a stale almost wooden taste in her mouth. The posters dotted around the yellowing walls were beginning to turn up at the edges, the pieces of plastic placed on top meant to slow the process of paper decay didn’t seem to be doing a very good job. Read more
At night, these streets had the power to be both deafeningly quiet and abhorrently loud at once. It never seemed to be dark here, not completely. Light came through in many forms, it shone through bedroom windows, flashed blue on the tops of unmarked cars and sometimes if you followed the light upwards it looked as though God himself was illuminating these streets by hand. But the light from above was just as ungodly as the blue lights flashing on top of the unmarked cars, because though it’s job was to seek out young devils up to no good, it instead served as a daily reminder that these streets must be in hell. Read more
Low tops and high skirts
She doesn’t wear bras
Won’t find her in church
Locate her in bars
A hoe never gets cold
But any hoe who’s a hoe knows, that a hoe is always told;
Dress how you wanna be addressed.
They say it’s not victim blaming
Just that prevention is better than cure
Spoken to like an object? Only wanted for sex?
Just don’t dress like a whore!
Like it’s that simple, that easy
A choice to not be objectified
But there’s women in burkas who see men and are still petrified
Because you say that it matters what I wear but it doesn’t
So when I wear next to nothing, hold your lips, fuck your judgement
One rule for one gender, a different rule for another
But when dressed in all black, hooded up and you get stopped
You don’t blame yourself or your clothes, it’s those pigs, fuck the cops
Dress how you wanna be addressed but only if you’re a sister, not a brother. Read more