she is sweet like antifreeze

Oh baby,

we are unstoppable.

Let no man put us under.

Do you hear me?

We are unstoppable!

We are the brides and the beasts of the planet.

We are desire and discourse.

We are virgin sin red and ripe for the plucking

but far beyond the reach of the tallest suitor.

We are wet dreams and sex tapes destroyed in the fire.

We float in the air on heals made of iron.

We are in control of our everything.

They cannot bring us down.

unless we let them-

unless we want them to

We will exist dancing in black cat-suits
on marble floors
alone to the sound of a jazz bass.

We will be cigarette smoke on the dark street corner
disappearing through the billows of underground steam
when they look back to see
if our image was real.

Woman,

your feet have been stuck in sugar for too long.

Their hands are knotted in your hair and
you think the tearing out will hurt too much-
that you need their help or, a compromise.

I tell you,

you will cut their hands at the wrists
and leave them with a gift of black-silk sutures.

We will set out with the wind for our tangles
and the rain for our breath.

They will try to follow, convince us, call to us,
and grab tight to the strings of our hearts-

but we will drop them on asphalt

turn heal to the night

and leave them with a fading memory-
the desperation of poor eyesight-
the image knocked out of focus in the moment of exposure.

We do not need anything they have to offer us.

We do not need anything at all.

we have each other

we have our bodies

we have our unified voice;

and we will not be pulled down drowning.

We are the ones who do the killing.

We are the ones who trick the hand of dice
with red lips and white thighs.

We are the ones.

We make them weak at the side of their wives
and oblivious to their own children.

We pull the shots and drink them down just the same.

I think you have forgotten where you've come from.

I think you have forgotten who you are.

I think we have both forgotten

what we can become.

We are unstoppable.

Pt.. 1

A dreamless buzz and the pickle song
ringing silent- in and out of my head.
The tragedies of too young blood
are washing themselves over my hands
while my eyes have turned through fire
and beaches- to glass.

I cannot cry a single tear for them
that will not ring off the floor,
bouncing in its high pitch "ping!"
and scatter into the corner
with the needles and breakfast crumbs
and all the other diamonds
I cast off there before.

I am filling a stagnant ocean-
breathless in its current-
but beautiful by sight.
What am I to do
with all these frozen waves I've made?
Unfit to swim in and
far too priceless to touch.
I am inconsolable.

With each tiny ringing
gems hit the floor
building castings for my ankles
and making me breakable.
My veins are pumping heat
into linoleum- but,
no one here is brave enough
to wade out across these gemstones
and melt these waters by my side.

I am glass on existence and
broken only in my solitude.
I am desolation with her hand on a gun
and wondering who will clean up her messes
after she's gone.
I am still too young to understand
the permanence of anything.

I am to love, and be loved,
and reaching for the buzz
of a message from another world.
I am barely conscious
in my state of old scars
and dreams put straight to rhythm.
Play me a melody and I will dance for you.

I am fire on the streets
emulating the light of the earth
that will illuminate even
the darkest parts of the moon
on the cloudiest of days.