this is how life teaches us a lesson, so do not blame them. they will mold us, break us, put us back together, and might break us again. it only means one thing. if people keep hurting you, it means you are not learning from the lesson that life teaches you. 

the story will repeat, and repeat, and repeat until we learn. 

so never tell a person that you shouldn't have met them. because at the end of the day, you chose not to wake up and learn from the people around you.

have my legs spread apart

like an easel with a canvas 

begging for art

the stroke of the round brush between the mountains where you made a waterfall feels like I'm in heaven. you painted a miner who used his pickaxe to dig deeper and deeper. he explored the rocks behind the falls. again, deeper and deeper and deeper. then he discovered a river with the sweetest water he ever tasted.

your lips took seconds 

to know every part of me

i forgot what loneliness feels like

with your manhood curled

inside my legs and your tongue

ohhh, that hungry little tongue 

can't get enough of my breasts

i existed, and i am wanted.

tickles my nose as we enter your room.
we sat and watched and you taught
me how peanut butter & bread is made. 

          1. remove the wrapper of the bread – your

             adventurous hands ripped all my clothes

             while your tongue teaches me how to 

             speak your language. 

          2. put the bread on the plate - you pushed 

             me to your bed and traced all my 

             erogenous zones in my body. 

         3. get the peanut butter - you left me there

             wanting you more. you threw all your 

             clothes to find the peanut butter that 

             you will spread using your long and

             sharp knife. 

         4. spread the peanut butter on the bread - 

             I let you spread the peanut butter inside

             my bread. up and down, circle motion,

             faster and harder. 

         5. hot milk for beverage (optional) - you 

             cannot hold longer and you wanted me 

             to taste what’s inside you. close your 

             eyes and swallow it. it tastes like heaven. 

 the strongest muscle

 in our body, can make music? 

our tongues collided

and there was a sound

yes, a sound that we 

created together.

saliva turned into 

ocean where our ships

met and they fought,

exchanging cannons

that made oxygen 

vanished in the atmosphere.

we heard the siren 

that we locked inside

our chest

a soothing sound that 

escape from our mouth. 

inhale, exhale.

it was music, 

we created music!

that gave us energy 

and our tongues continued 

to collide.

i can also 

hear the ocean we 

made together

it dances with

the sound we are making. 

it sank our mind

to the deepest part of 

the sea. 

have resisted his 

lips when it 

met yours.

why did you let 

his tongue discovered 

that you wanted him 

more?

you made his 

hand navigate your body 

and marked the 

spot when you 

called his name. 

then he found his 

favorite place

where he saw 

a river coming 

from the forest.

you invited 

his manhood to find 

the treasure inside 

the forest. 

you screamed 

and he moaned, 

you moaned.

louder and crazier 

until both of 

you thought 

you found the 

treasure. 

what i was saying is that you should have resisted my father when he wanted you to become his sl*t. 

remember how you became a sl*t and you enjoyed it. so stop making the treasure you found suffer. we are the treasure from the pleasure you did that night. 

should i call 

myself an artist?

‘coz i made my

life a museum of 

disappointments

and traumas. 

it was a talent, 

a gift rather

that some god 

gave to me. 

maybe, i am the chosen one. 

the one that everything

she does is not enough. 

                              sit down and i will

                               tell you the story

                           behind about artwork

                                    that i made.

                        i.   a woman spreading her

                             legs to offer her soul -

                             begging and seeking

                             for the love she ne’er

                             had. 

                        ii.  a white canvas filled 

                             with a print of different 

                             hands, with different 

                             color - her innocen-

                             ce was vandalized 

                             by different men. 

                        iii.  a rusty door in the 

                              the middle of the 

                              forest - the only 

                              thing that people 

                              noticed when 

                              they enter the fo-

                              rest was the rusty

                              old door - flaws,

                              bad decisions, past, 

                              and disappointments.

                              they never appreciated

                              the forest.