Friday treat!

"Doing it wrong"

Alysia Harris & Miles hodges.

(I've showed this to some of you)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niqxhrzPgqM

but to the others, its worth the watch. believe me.
here's the poem.. written.

this is spoken word, so its really raw and in your face kind of poem....

Cry if you need to, but I cant stay to watch you, it's the wrong thing to do. Touch if you need to but I cant stay to hold you, it's the wrong thing to do.

I know that you heard this before, I know that your patience has run thin and these love poems are getting boring.

After the 5th one-night stand she said she felt like a slave to your lips, I guess that's when you started fearing using your tongue as a whip.

When the lust is so thick and the morals so weak.

Her blood still violet on the inside but the lipstick ran pink, when you scrap your paintbrush across her canvas noting but watercolor courage and red wine to pour.

Intentions and temptations blurred

Like a beautiful sunset but you swore on the blood of every blackbird not to answer her calls, not to empty her depths, not to fish her pearl. But just look at her black curls, so much midnight about her you feel like she's cursed.

& you can't tell what's worse, admitting you're a coward or telling her you just don't want her.

After the 5th one-night stand with the 4th different woman for the 3rd this month he wrote a poem about how 2 is the loneliest number he's ever known. How the most at home he feels is the highway drives that wind him home. The tar of I-95 north across Bronx south of route 4 west or 87 towards jersey the damps of mattress pearls shes left behind the contour faces of girls wondering why, haunt through the air.

And she likes it there

And he likes it there

In that haze.

She is literally saying his name

in others men's beds

She actually told him that with the last text he read, said "Miles,

you're f**** disgusting, to think you came in me one week ago"

he puts the phone down back into the center console of the car, face steady like warriors after a clean death without a flinch or a murmur of limbs. As take care fades back through the speakers.

You know it's messed up when you can start relating to that sh*t.

When the best excuse you have for leaving before the sun rises is she'll never understand me anyway.

Yeah the truth hurts but don't tell her you love her if you're not willing to put in work.

After the 5th date with the 4th guy who looks like you, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm not just a little nostalgic. And I'd apologize, but he doesn't love me anyway he's just in love with an idea. So I promise instead not to fart or cough I'ma just let Einstein keep dreaming.

All hypothesis and semen why the ruin the ambiance with honesty?

I just happen to have breasts and ass an added bonus for free, so whatever feelings he claims he has, it won't last. No matter how bad the hangover, it'll pass.

Cause I can stomach damn near everything, even gas and a lit match with your initials etched on the back.

I don't have to think when I'm with him, if that's any consolation, surface conversation, and the blind observation that hands, feel like hands in the middle of the dark, but he voice don't sound like yours no matter how many lights I turn off.

And I, I can't get high enough anymore to disregard the beautiful young lady my one and only, that reminded me, keeps reminding me that when you give yourself to someone, when your walls collapse and your masks are thrown to the floor. You're so close to someone, that everything seems to have a taste, the texts of her insides, poems itself over, swooning to come at the same exact time.

I'm reminded that when it's done, they can call on your soul whenever they want to, at will, whenever their lonely needs it's fix.

Ever since you PMed me with an 'Alysia Harris' poem, I began to like that!