The Poetry Marathon

my butt, big, small, medium… I don’t know its size because I need to first know who I’m comparing it to, although every living thing that becomes eye view seems to change from stranger to competition in a matter of seconds, I know how to accept others and yet I don’t know how to accept without anything good or bad being reason enough to change my self thoughts. I just want it to bounce around or maybe I want it to push through the tightest of jeans. You would think I had a thing for women the way I’m looking at them, so scared of how things will change for me when they are facing back side and I have to look to see, insecure and trying to heal me…

my thighs were thick enough to kick away the feelings, all the outside one, but what was under the skin, that blood line was different, way different…

I buckled again, my knees gave out at a time when needed most, why were they different than hers, the other women, that I can’t keep my mind off of simply because I’m trying to understand what you see, you men that form relationships with me, get me in knee deep then break my bones, fracturing over and over again, no wonder I’m unsure, insecure and searching for her to see what you need more. There I said it, I’m insecure, sound the alarms, shine the lights I’m dying trying to remove the truth…

mid way up the leg I found something to stand on, then I froze… ughhh fear.

my ankles are shaking, please help me, please. I don’t understand why this walk is so hard, who are you to buckle me down, change my thoughts of myself into something so hateful, so unworthy, deplete me as if all I have is not enough, who am I. I constantly forget to ask myself this so I may say out loud who I am… and with the confidence implanted in me some where I am self loved enough to hault the shake…

the heel, I grounded, I’m not sure why I careless about it, the start of mountain, pose that is, to become aware of what is impressed in the ground, I hate the roots, I hate the roots because they tell me so many things that I will never escape from, I limp at times, no one would know though, because I hide, I’m trying very hard, to allow the roots to be me, so bad I just want to be me…

within the little toes are present moments, tip toeing to the purple view, bruised… I need you, I need you to allow me to be you, I almost got there once, with pointed toes, daddy played with them, mommy cleaned them, I almost got there once, until they were broken, by a moment of incomplete summons, I thought I was left, I thought I was gone, my toes labeled themselves, “don’t go, you can’t get in, you won’t, you aren’t…and the blood went up thru my veins undone…

The layers edged with a sharp hook, responsibility was granted, it was not up to him or them, but Me, it was up to me, regardless of the weight, pathetic on the timing, irrelavent to decoding. I grabbed the tip and it impressed upon my skin the first sight of blood set in…

Excited to see what tomorrow will bring… so here is my little but important test post.