The Revolutionist Wants To Eat Me

The Revolutionist Wants To Eat Me


There is a woman
who lives on my back.
she brings gifts of unorthodox
disruptions to my humble pose.
her load is brutal upon my body
and soon one day, she
will overpower me.
her nappy, wild animal hair
unravels at the end
of my tips, while
she braids and weaves
her dreds into my orderly roots.
her brazen voice
so loud when she speaks
dissolves my
lady-like sing-song melody.
her face stuck in frame,
seems never released of a
continuous smugly fit smile.
her hefty teeth leave
imprints in sentences.
her stout arms supported
by her broad shoulders
create thunder with
every shift of order.
her callus hands
work lively while she
summons every task she's
ever attempted to accomplish.
her full breast suffocate
barren empty spaces.
her big animated belly
moves when she moves, while
she moves when I move.
her thighs always dancing,
have swallowed more than a
few grown men's waist.
her heavy legs
entertain whenever
she decides to walk,
her statuesque signature
lingers behind after
each pace, each step.
and I can feel her
following closely,
I can hear her harsh breath
on the nape my neck.
she is unruly in her style,
as she tramples through life.
she is selfish,
always wanting things her way.
her mind steady grinding
on plans, calculated thoughts on
how to capture the world
and change it to accommodate
her hips, her gender,
her race, and her seeds.
her eyes growl for she
has been starved of
equality in her bones.
while in her
uneven world, she
collects sharp knives, waiting
for the moment to
even the score and claim victory.
burdensome are her actions upon me,
as she carefully plots to
awake me of her existence.
this woman only comes around
to conjure up chaos,
and she wants to use me
as her vessel.
this burly woman want to
savor me on the tip of her tongue.
hungry and greedy, ready to
infuse me into her veins,
gobble the remains of my
personality during
a great carnivorous feast.
defusing the meander ways
of my meek and gentle figure,
this huge robust woman
wants to deliciously eat me.
leaving nothing behind but
my epidermis so that she
may dress in my body tomorrow,
anxious to have my
skin upon her soul.
she'll strut boldly in my being
ready to start trouble,
and stir up the world, acting
gregarious in her nature.
as she wears me haughtily like
her best sunday dress.