Sanpixee the Alien: Man from Mars
The Man from Mars is on my mind,
The Man from Mars with beautiful hair, beautiful mouth and a beautiful beautiful.
As complicated as he is, he is still a man, nothing complicated there. He is complicated as he complicates me, turns what should be one sentence into a convoluted paragraph, my inner monologue into an entire play. Makes me second guess my guesses, question my questions and has drained me of all declarative statements. I hate this fucker with a passion, and no I am not talking about his beautiful mouth which I adore, his beautiful smile and eyes or even his beautiful beautiful. I speak of the way he drains me of my 20+ years of expensive first world education, and the many self affirmations drilled into my being by Ms. Angelou, Ms. Walker and Ms. Winfrey.
He watches me walk like a predator and I come to him willing like prey, welcoming sweet death as he kisses my shoulders, cups my breasts and glides into me in one seamless motion. The Man from Mars is the man I hate, the man I hate because I know I must run now to save my life to save all I am, to save my eloquence and my poise, to maintain the barbed fences which guard my core. And here I must stop writing to wait…as he circles me again, watching, smiling, silently laughing, knowing I am definitely his to kill again and again and again…
