
Oh what a beautiful image of self destruction
I have entered into so willingly
Puncturing my own fruit with society's needles
simply to watch my branches
wither away from the gifts
I have been so indignantly
graced with
Force feeding other's intuitions
into my sustenance of life
I stare incessantly,
blind to the fact
I am flushing out of me
my own uniqueness
With swelled eyes, parched lips,
and my potential seeping out
from every orifice
I ask...
Is this what you meant
for me to be?














33 old applause
