Mug shot says a lot; Straight A’s, 2 parents, middle class upbringing. Voted Regan, Bush and Bush again, And tried to keep those demons from breeding. I saw that something the first time I met you, But it was clear that something was never gonna come outside. So you buried it, ignored it, denied its unalienable right, Until it came out of the closet on your birthday night. Now you know, now they know, now the world has met your demon. Once the sun shines down on it, the shadow starts receding.
1 Comment
You think we separated many moons ago,
But I own you in my mind. You thought you broke free of me, But I own you in my mind. Lounging feet in the sand, sharing a lazy Sunday afternoon. I remembered to bring the umbrella, sun scorching in the month of June. Bad jokes abound from your mouth, they make me laugh anyway. Turns out your jovial mood, was the only thing that was gay. Said you needed more, more than I could give. Said this was no way, for an entitled princess to live. Always present, never aloof, Heart bigger than your expectations. Filled with love, not with plastic, 3 digit security code and an expiration. Capable of giving more, than an hour or two, every week. Know who you are, not the one she wants you to be. Soul deep not loofah deep. You don't exist. Another moment, another tear, as days and months pass by. Your heart no longer speaks to me, But I own you in my mind. Pop and pour, pop and pour;
Bring on the comps, it’s for charity. With each sip my moxie maximizes, And super sizes For the coming opportunity. Hot blonde in jacked up heels and super short dress; legs looking immortally long. Shower me in adulation, Lady lovely manipulation, Or at least the Calvin multi print, wanna put it on? Let’s go undercover, And pull a little switch-a-roo. I’m sure we’ll both fit in. Only known you for about a minute or two. Now you’re struttin’ in my wears, and I’m tugging down your Mexican find. Trying to cover these assets Gettin’ all kinds of stares on mine. You’re damn crazy fun, as were walking in dim lights. Slip of the hand, slip of the tongue, Not the sophisticated time I planned. There was networking and a wife to be found. But life is now, and I look too young. Gonna add seven years or so to it, When this night is done. In the corner, in the garden, On the dance floor, on the bar. Time was fun, but now time to run. There’s yours, here’s mine, now there’s yours on the floor? Some tongue, some finger Sucking from the baby’s god made bottle, Fresh nectar never tasted so good. But you’re air, I’m water, so this is just for the night. Please don’t give me your number It will never, ever be this right. Now put this on and call Fellini to the set. Ciao bella, arrivederci baby, La Dolce Vita. Who’s next? There once was a girl who loved colonics, to get all the shit out of her. She thought she was full of toxins, which were ruining her mood and her world. She cleansed and detoxed with juices, and diets And sometimes mechanical contraptions, In hopes that the feelings of emptiness and lovelessness would be replaced with some sort of satisfaction. But that feeling never came. And she was left with a very dull pain, As the love that held her hand, and waited Stood up and walked away. Writing 1-oh-1
I never gave you a chance. We never gave us a chance. A chance at what? A lottery ticket whose numbers were never scratched off, A call never answered, An invitation unaccepted, An opportunity never embraced? A love never made. Set in motion at the wrong times, Starting and stopping never catching a rhythm. The first time I saw you was in a picture, Not sure how I missed you at that birthday dinner. Glancing back, not a smile or a frown, but your eyes said you had a story to tell; a life being written not acted out. I’m not sure what it was in you that kept bringing me back. Were so different, were so the same. Something deeper than your skin I want to touch. So I return like the tide, working my way to you. Maybe we were never meant to connect through carnal desire, Meant to connect by words, expressed tales of life and emotions; hitting each others gspot the only way we know how. |
Rio Brit
Rio Brit resides in sunny south Florida. When not working on scripts, short stories, or the novel, Rio practices the fine art of Leisure. Archives
December 2013
Categories |