I’ve got this burning need to write a scathing poem about a special someone being a coward and I know I’d have to lump myself into that as well. I just slump down looking at the paper feeling at a loss as what to say when I’m really very angry at me.

How do I admit that I know my parts are all parts of me? Which means I’m hurting pretty bad emotionally. That I’m in love to the point where the level of sappiness makes my own ears bled? That I’m so lost in discerning reality from fantasy at times because what I want ends up coloring things. That my paranoia has hit the worst I’ve ever been in, well ever. I know that’s the reason I see threats in simple phrases, that under ever rock is a snake – mean that metaphorically. I’m on an internal high alert because the stakes are higher than it’s ever been.

So many good people and I end up wanting to take a pinch off here and there and combine my own person out of them and call him, well, mine, of course. And the sad part is it wouldn’t be fair but to see him as he truly is and not as I wish to see him.

I want the soul searing love and passion that can fry out the brain. I want to touch and to feel and taste every part of him and still want more. I’m at my core extremely greedy. And I know I’ll never ask. To live a life of want but never have – god it’s so weird to be able to answer what one wants. To go up to the order window and place an order without all the restrictions that swim around inside me, to speak out-loud what one wants – gods, how many take that simple process for granted?

How many times have I said I love you and the only response is ‘good girl’?
And oh I get it, dare I demand anything and I get nothing. Of course. Lack of respect..etc.

sigh I don’t want to get wound up. I’m bleeding on the pavement of life here. I need stitches. This is gonna scar deep. I’m a coward is so many ways. Would of, could of and should of all count the loss. Yet the biggest one is, what do I do now?

What do I want out of my submission? What do I want out of life?
What is worth fighting everything for?
What do I believe in?

What can I grab that has the strength to pull me forward?
Love? I don’t think so. It hurts too damn much.
Anger? That just might do it. Pissed off Alpha bitch who wants to chew on your ass for a bit..before she makes you piss your pants in front of her.

I can hear you laughing. It’s okay. It make me chuckle too. It’s a bit weird for me too. Because that is what the world sees for the most part, that Alpha bitch. The softer part, I wore on the outside for such a long time because everyone loved her more, everyone wanted her around, wanted the soft and compliant little thing. And here I am, snatching her away, putting her in her proper place. I feel like an ass for doing it, like one of those ugly angler fishes that dangle the shiny light before swallowing it’s prey.  Except there is no prey and it’s my own pride I’m swallowing down.

I’m the coward. All these parts are me and have always been. They are me. And I’m pretty sure my arguments with myself are far more entertaining that would be otherwise and I may have a different access to my subconscious but it’s a lot in there to work out. But the most interesting thing about this all is I get the choice – yup I get the choice from here on out on who I am going to be.

I have the power. I’ve had that power all along.

You want to know something really weird?
I’m not allergic to trees but boy oh boy Isa sure is!



About autumnzephyr2014

Digital artist. Poet. member of the "Peanut Gallery"
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