worth lives

so deep in there were glamour shots at sixteen not understanding what everyone was feeling that stirring that need young but old tired of lonely
felt it when she1 looked at me when she2 kissed me when she3 woke up here
kept it from my body in my brain above the waist kept it from them afraid of their looks lost love lost respect gained disappointment
repeating the mantra of perfection
without perfection there is no love
without perfection there are no friends
without perfection this aching remains
tearing away from them to hold them closer to be real to cry out my self and know they could scream run away
to know that alone all is okay when alone is you damn the masks makeup painted touches so They can name your beauty thoughtless of where worth lives
foot by foot easier harder habitual effort conscious deliberate fate waiting walking wondering seeking new and old to break and build upon the tangled web knotted love
me

First go at a "rambling". I am leaving it without editing.

i don't have a title for this, and i'm okay with that

i am tired of self-masticating

self-deprecating

self-hating

praying for the virgin mind

i am self-resuscitating
hand and fingers animating
the lost grey
electrifying my cunt, clit, lips, folds
oceans, lands, scattered territories
under one flag
eve and i reclaim our bounty

here i stand before you drenched
in urine in cum in shit
in blood in sweat
in tears
but it's not my shit
and it's not my piss
and it is not my cum
i'll lay claim to the tears
the tears are mine

but

actually

i'm lying

i'm lying to you

it is my piss and my shit
and definitely
that is my cum
i'm laughing
but still crying
still crying because
it FUCKING HURTS to slice open my belly
and show my guts

i hope you appreciate it
i did it for you - all of it

i want to embrace you
squeeze you blue
share this filth with you
pump blood all over your
clean.white.shirt.

don't you want to fuck me now?
reach your hands in and caress the pulsing matter
let the slick life pour through your fingers
rip out the bits that make you sick
that piss you off
that get- in- your- way
so you can
see what the vagina sees
when you try to make me cum

but you can't make me do anything

This poem is from a few years ago. I can't place it exactly in my life, but it's definitely post-undergrad. I've been thinking about changing the "see what the vagina sees" line to something like "see what happens", but I'm torn. I also sometimes end this with "that I don't want to do." At the moment, I like letting that remain unsaid. I'd be interested in thoughts on either matter.