I Think In Blood by Ivy

'Blood sits in my belly thriving me ready. Not the life stirring force I was hoping for. Its blend of curse words and bile threaten to spray my walls of white awake. It stimulates my coyote mind. Figuring the color puts my thighs at ease. This is not who I thought I was. Dreams have changed from dark alleys and jumping roofs to neighborhood chats and hair combing. I’m where I always wanted to be. Quenching last nights thirst, and rolling around the tumble weeds, feeling dirt's grit, brings me alive. Flying through with eyeballs pealed. Never trusting in a total stranger. She smiles with her tongue while forking. Saying goodbye to many a golden ring. Africa calls her children back where I kiss the ground. Sitting in a chair made of stone. I’m choosing the reflection being a TV. Reaching for the ghost. Looking at the world through glass. Makes me want to do nice things. Painting all the doors red reminds me I’m alive.  A path I follow to the fork in the road saying yes. Something is everywhere all the time. Paths and forks go on until there isn’t. There's comfort in my fear where curtains hide the corners. Where god rules the edges. Where laws govern my lips. Where someone else's idea of good, lives where my fun hides. Hell is running late, I see, blowing apart the place I used to haunt. Where brown skin lovers hold each other, hungry in the dark. Where old weeps on over-salted sheets. Where love is a warm place like fingers in my mouth. Like thighs pressed tight. Like someone who smells of perspiration and grass mowed by hand. I smile even though I don't want to. The tune has stopped me. Watching dogs die with no fuss. With no screams of terror. Where nothing is needed. I let go of the one I love. In love. Color painting over gods words so close I can smell his dandruff. Rubbing them out, watching the ink blots float yachts across the vaults of heaven. Bending knees in prayer opens my heart, for blood has never been more red. Bending the light is a painting from the louvre flung across a cut-out sky. Bending Jasmine sucks through my nostrils, my head, my heart, filtered with the sting of knives, an empty glass between my brows, flickers under my skin. I am who I choose to be.