Fuck Up

Fuck this
Fuck that
Fuck you
I’ll fuck you over
Then fuck you some more
Because you’re still going to fuck me
Yet, the more I fuck
The more I don’t give a fuck
But why the fuck
Do I still fuck?
It must fucking mean
That I’m fucked

© 2015 Jessica Santos

Advertisements

Cover Ups

Remember that warm fuzzy feeling?
It grew unlike no other
With no end in sight
Well, now the cold winter comes
I feel it on my toes first
Slippers lie in the closet now
Replaced by boots
Try as I may to sustain the cold
It creeps in
Sinking into my bones
Now all bundled up
I look in the mirror
I’ve become a snow ball
Ready to be thrown
And splattered across another
Should I have added the layers?
Or should I have enjoyed winter’s bliss?

© 2015 Jessica Santos

107 Seconds

I had no idea
How was I to know?
Blinded in desperation
I took both hands in cooperation
Being led straight down the halls
And around the bends
His lair was no where
But everywhere
Turning a guiltless couch
Into a haunting memory
Converting my own sanctuary
Into my undoing
With every case
The beginnings were different
The methods have changed
So how am I to know?
When I don’t even know
What it is that I want, that I need
Everyone says to spread the word
But what word?
We already know it’s there
With every 107 seconds
There’s another case
So what’s the plan now?

© 2015 Jessica Santos

Siren

Beyond her eyes
A storm rages on
Though they are brown
And gentle like a newborn pup
They quickly shift
Becoming cold as the night
Words slither out from those treacherous lips
Coursing with thick venom
Unafraid to strike its victim
Do not be fooled by their soft precious temptation
She only lures you in
To destroy you in your own undoing
So be cautious when you approach
Oh wait
Too late
You’ve already been caught

© 2015 Jessica Santos