thatchicklo

My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.
—  Anais Nin
She was no longer a slow dreamer watching the flowers grow. She was a warrior now. Warriors need something to fight for though, besides their lives, because otherwise their lives will not be worth it.
—  Francesca Lia Block
Flowerchild 20/30

Rugged little flower child

piercings and tattoos,

knows that the world will need her,

but hopes the day won’t come soon.

She draws daisies on her forehead.

She wishes on full moons.

She likes walking barefoot

smoking tree on warm afternoons.

She calls no place home

because the world is where she stays,

randomly laying places

on hot summer days.

She roams and explores

til her body is sore.

Then she soars out her body

searching for solutions,

does not wait for the revolution because 

she knows the revolution is her(e).

Take

You take like a parasite

robbing me of what I earned.

Eating me of life and home.

Why do you need

to take from me?

Now all I have is time that’s wasted

earning things that you have taken.

Dying just to survive.

I have no more

for you to take.

And I am trying to live,

but you’re taking things

I cannot give.

So I’ll be dying soon

trying to get through the night.

And everyday I feel I’m missing.

Unaware that I am fading.

Into darkness I’ll reside.

That’s where I’ll hide

so you can’t take.

And I’ve been feeling very low.

Don’t know how far I will go.

Into your hands

is where I know

I’ll be living

'cause my giving.

Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence. I see in you that part of me which is you. I surrender my sincerity because if I love you it means we share the same fantasies, we share the same madness.
—  Anais Nin
…but I want to smash my reflections so in the mirror I’ll look like I feel, pieces, but if you break a mirror there are just more whole little yous in every piece.
—  Francesca Lia Block (in ‘Missing Angel Juan’)
I want to hear raucous music, to see faces, to brush against bodies, to drink fiery Benedictine. Beautiful women and handsome men arouse fierce desire in me. I want to dance. I want drugs. I want to know perverse people, to be intimate with them. I never look at naive faces. I want to bite into life and to be torn by it.
—  Anais Nin

Tonight I dreamt that you came to me

begging for my ring finger

and I attempted to kindly decline,

but then I thought

can a decline be kind.

It did not feel nice

when you declined me

on that cold, rainy evening

when my heart was cast into the abyss.

But you said, you told me,

'I love you'

as if that were a key

to my locked heart,

but did you forget

that I am equivalent to a robot?

Similar to the tin man

that searches for a heart.

Then you asked,

'Do you love me?'

and I wondered

should I decline kindly again,

or should I change the subject

because this subject

was objecting with my mind.

I did not want to lie,

because truth be told

you and I both know

that love is just too above me.

I am but a lowly peasant

that gazes upon it

as if it were a precious jewel

owned by kings and queens.

Then you told me,

'just believe'

but how can I believe in something

that has not proven to me its existence?

I use to call upon it nightly,

beckoning it to show itself to me,

to prove itself to true,

and by the break of dawn

I would realize

that it never came true.

So I trapped it-

inside this old mahogany casket

along with dreams of

Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy, and superheroes.

So that it would not try to persuade me

with its fairy tales

and bewilder my mind

with happy endings.

Now you ask nothing from me.

You just call me name repeatingly

wondering if the answer is yes,

down upon one knee

and I don’t want to lie to you,

and I don’t want to make a fool out of you,

and I don’t want you to believe that my words were not true,

so I decline-

but I decline kindly.

Admitting my Dependency

I wrote this like last year, it’s kind of a little jingle and it’s been in my head all day.

People know that I’m a fighter,

not a lover.

And the fact that I am strong’s

not undercover.

But with the strength that I have

I must admit that I do not

even get everything that I have wished.

And I have made a thousand wishes

on some stars.

And I know that I can’t get

very far-

by myself.

'Cause they ain't coming true

unless I depend on you.

I am dependent on you.

Truth is, I’m not innocent. I’m just an abstinent fireplace that doesn’t want to feel the fire kindled between her legs anymore. So don’t mind the ashes they’re just evidence of how brightly I can glow, and I wanna glow hard, like one dim star on an otherwise starless night, that shines just to prove it’s fidelity!
—  Alysia Harris
2/30
When you look at me like my name is now I grow anchors on my feet. You constantly slay me with your embarrassing bravery. This spring has been cold and your insides are savory. I’m a war sometimes, but you still come and save me. Or am I saving you? We’re floating bare in our skin like we got shit to prove. How ‘bout we state our intentions and wear them like tattoos? 'Cause I got love in my bones I wanna give to you.
Untitled (because I don't wanna name another poem after you.)

He said I was the kind of girl he’d write love poems for.

I said I am not a love poem,

but a poem about destruction.

He said, "If you would allow me to I would reconstruct you."

I refused,

for I would never allow a man

to mold me with his hands

into something he believes I should be.

Don’t be deceived,

my exterior may look weak and broken,

but inside this vessel is a giant being

stronger that you will ever see.

I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension. But I am not always in what I call a state of grace. I have days of illuminations and fevers. I have days when the music in my head stops. Then I mend socks, prune trees, can fruits, polish furniture. But while I am doing this I feel I am not living.
—  Anais Nin