SerenitySavage

Humans have forced extinct More than they have created Tusks, heads and animal hides Treasured like a golden prize Elephants and rhinos Will join the Mammoth and the Dodo The only remnants ivory and horns Made into aphrodisiacs for porn Poaching is murder Extinction is revolving Maybe one day it will be our teeth Our hides hunted for their meat

Women are the world’s walking targets. The bullseyes of budding breasts dodge darts and stares. We are pummeled with shame from the onset of menstruation. The blood that flows so naturally, like breathing, is taboo. A secret until the lifeblood bleeds through, moving the bullseye from her breasts to her backside. We are condemned for any choice we make for ourselves. Buy lipstick to plump our lips, but not that particular shade of sunburnt whore. Paint your nails, but not that shade of prostitute. The same color that will stain the sheets after he’s had his way with you. If I dye my hair, I’m high maintenance. If I let it turn grey, I have given up on my looks. Our skirts can’t be too short or our shirts cut too low. We don’t want to distract the boys. The boys that can’t let us walk down the street alone, without our keys protruding through a tightened fist ready for an assault. We are always on guard. Why don’t we report rape? We don’t want to be portrayed as a victim. In t

My shiny trinket You’re too pretty To be left in my phone I want you in my pocket Take you out to roll around In the palms of my hands Let your precious metal Blind me with the sunlight A bauble pulled out For special occasions  You are not for everyday use We’ll never be photographed together Nothing in concrete or cement When we’re done I’ll place you Deep inside my jewelry box Where all the other gems go to rust Maybe you’ll end up in a yard sale Let someone else enjoy your treasure

Don’t try to burden the beast As she delivers her sickly sweet poison A tattoo in your veins She will make you her art Dark not miserable A subtle difference Addicted to the cruelty of life There is no other way to feel alive We all get ugly eventually Some quicker than others Make no mistake We all end up piles of festering goop The whole point of life is to suffer Death the only relief So there should be no fear Of what is left unknown She is so good at disappearing From people’s lives You’ll never even miss her Only the scent remains The bones of a skunk Still reek long after it’s dead Her residue lives In every mind she’s ever fucked

I pour my heart into you Only for it to be gulped down And pissed away May it leave you With kidney stones

I live my life in eight week intervals. Every two months a visit to the hospital brings infusions. Into  my veins I allow these drugs to creep. The supposed antidote seeps into my mixed up body, where up is sideways and down is dead. Dripping from bags of fluid and mind numbingly expensive pharmaceuticals. The blind prick of a needle threads a slender tube into the crook of my arm. I watch the wall as the nurses make small talk as if these chemicals were Kool-Aid. Everything is a continuous stand-off, winner takes all. Insurance companies hinder my health, not help. Doctors offices make mistakes. Labs get mixed up. Infection explores the crevices and pores of my body. A symptom turns to a drug remedy that produces side effects, which in turn leads to different drugs and new symptoms. My body beats itself in circles simply out of spite. Everyday is a fight for all of the coveted that will inevitably disappear. Health and happiness, love and life are the four fleeting pillars of everyo