The Prostitute #Poetry

The sky has long swallowed the sun
I should be home with my son
But I am sinking
To the bottom of this glass
Sitting here thinking
How life has me in a class
Constantly testing
My unstable human
From an organ in my left wing
To the core that makes me man.

The crickets walk my drunk home
Buzzing from the shadows
To sooth the crazy in my dome
The unseen wrangles
Draining my tired soul
Remind me of the times
The weight of my deepest desires
Crumbled to that of a trusting tongue
And the fear of handing out the clues
That lead back to real self
Ate on me like a festering wound.

My bed is calling my staggering feet
Yet the demons in my mind insist
I thoroughly explain
Why I sold my soul
And ignited my awaiting hell
When I stained the purity of motherhood
Sometimes I think improving could
Help me embrace my role better
But then how will I cater
For the men that feed us
So I think i'll just let tonight pass.

Pixabay.

I have been running away from writing for a while... it's weird how we digest emotions sometimes. I am not happy neither am I sad... I just feel unable to mourn or share. I might be overthinking a little bit but it's on how to get better at everything. I am taking school and reading more seriously as I desperately want to get better at writing... But I also feel somewhat stuck as I want to try out writing everything (stories, fiction, erotica, and more prose plus poetry which is weird because I have been only pursuing poetry and prose more than the others for a long while) and for some reason it's all dark. I want to practice light badly but my only light is erotica.

So... What's good? ♡♡♡

                         **Cross Posted**

BQ.