SOULLESS

I woke up without my soul today.
Last night before I slept I left it dillydallying around the concepts of love, life and other prospects
I've wrecked my mind in search of it, checked everywhere in my heart down to the insides of my pockets
Strange, but I was thinking maybe it got caught looking for some change.
I've widened my search range to the street, begging complete strangers indiscreetly what I could give in exchange for theirs.
My soul-seeking desperation reeking of fears peaking into tears leaking down my face and smears what composure I've held through the years.
Who has it, what ditch does it lie in?
Where could it have gone, could I have kept it from fleeing?
My questions echo through the hollow residue of my being
Maybe I should pray so I’m down to the floor kneeling, praying wordlessly to a God I claim to believe in
.Maybe I should sleep now and see if it returns in the morning.

But what if my soul doesn't miss me?
What if it’s running wild through the fields like an untamed child screaming “I AM FREE, I AM FREE”
“Free of this tiring lunatic chasing after things she can’t have and still can’t figure out where she belongs
Free of embarking her childish fantasies that gets so damn frustrating as the journey prolongs
Free of excusing the misuse of her life, at this age she still can’t confidently walk in her own shoes
They’re always too tight or too loose
Sometimes I even give her the option of going barefoot but she still won’t choose.”
I imagine my soul lying in a hammock on a beach in Maui
Sunglasses on, sipping on margaritas glad to be rid of me.

I let my body sleep but my soul I never let rest
So today, my bones and flesh must do all the work and endure the stress
Today I woke up soulless.

HE DOESN'T WRITE ANYMORE

He doesn’t write anymore.

Before, he would wade in the water till the sea hurled to shore his words galore

But he’s internalized his hurt and his disdain remains unfurled

So I can no longer relate to his pain and heal him from the world.

He doesn’t write anymore.

As if he didn’t know I consumed his inscriptions of a thousand tongues like it was air to my lungs

And I could breathe in the echoes of a throng of his melodies

But his verses are missing from a song of memories

His lyrics no longer belong.

He doesn’t write anymore.

Like he took a nap and woke up to a time his art no longer spoke

Like he broke his pen or lost the wave of its stroke

It’s like a curse I wish to revoke; so bewitch me, cloak me

Otherwise tear these blank sheets from his book, please

Un-produce them and re-erect the oak tree.

He doesn’t write anymore.

Like he took the wrong course and got trapped behind the door of an unworthy cause

And his words have been held hostage lest taken by force

But he’s weak and addled, a tired horse without a saddle

He can only pray for help from a divine source.

He doesn’t write anymore

Though I wish he would.

I wish to inspire him from the ground up; I wish he stood.

I’d dish him food to nourish his mind up; I’d feed him good.

Just to inspire him to write a little bit more

I wish he would.

SCORNED

See I gave him the truth of me

But he blinded his truth from me and chose to deceive

And though life has countless times cleansed me with second chances

Forgiveness from me he would never receive.

So now I hate men

Yes, I hate them all.

Because one cracked my skull and stirred my brains

Then reached into my wounds and coiled my veins

So all of them must take the fall.

Don’t dare tell me not to be bitter

I tasted the best of what I thought could only get sweeter

Liter after liter of sweetness slapped from my tongue

Slapped so hard it left my ears ringing

Ringing unlike my phone

Clinging unlike his hold

Stinging like the pain his absence is bringing

I’m screaming in madness with the voice that should be singing.

Don’t f**ken ask me not to be scorned

I’m pissed as hell for me, our two girls and boy never born

They’re stuck in the darkness before dawn

How the f*ck would they see the light

Without him to turn the switch on?

The blazes of hell could never match my fury

I have stacked my hands with spears to pierce their hearts

And I won’t bother to deny it to the jury.

They will pay; they all will pay duly

For I hate them, I hate them truly.

I have targeted them all one by one

And I won’t rest till they’re all done and gone

I’ve held vengeance prisoner and alongside dug my grave

I will enslave them before I kill them

I will slay all who stand in my way

No one is safe.