UNTITLED 10

Your skin like burnished coal

Warm to the feel

I wanna touch

Let my hands wander down

The doll body

Peeling back the clothes

Revealing you

Lithe and live

And nubile and unsullied

To make my plaything

A toy for the black days

Where we wrap each other

Under the weather

Your body on mine

Convoluting

A torrent of sighs cascading in our singular form

Writhing like a conjoined deity

Hush!

There can be no rush

As we grope and feel and caress and thrust

Giddy to the pearly beads of sweat pooling in the desire of our lovemaking

You are

A

Mistress in distress

To destress

Nothing more nothing less

Oh but to kiss your skin

Glowing like burnished coal

To taste your heifer breasts

To feed off your prepubescent body

Ripe in libidinous luminescence

A magnificent spectacle

Oh the thrill

The striking passion

All in the glorious game

Of a man who must not be caught

© Sena Frost “17
photo courtesy google images

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2011

I’m in Marvin’s room

Sitting by the ‘phone

Just staring at them blowing a ‘shroom

The click of the keyring before the dial tone

Rings loudly

The phone

I pick it up

Cradling my cup set full of Rosé

“Talk to me

Please say something”

She breathes on the other side of the line

“I slept with my best friend’s girlfriend

I didn’t even feel bad about it”

She breathes on the other side of the line

“I see you in my dreams at night

An angel dressed in white

My angel

Please

Give me a chance

Cos I know you’re the one for me”

She says nothing

I am in Marvin’s room

Sitting by the phone

Just staring at them blowing a ‘shroom

The click of the keyring before the dial tone

Rings loudly

The phone

I pick it up

Cradling my cup set full of Rosé

“Talk to me

Please say something”

She breathes on the other side of the line

“I don’t love you

I’ve never loved you

Can you just be happy for me?

I love him ”

I breathe on the other side of the line

“We can’t be anything more than this

You’re like a brother to me”

I breathe on the other side of the line

The words a lump in my throat

I’m in Marvin’s room

Sitting by the ‘phone

Just staring at them blowing a ‘shroom

The click of the keyring before the dial tone

Rings loudly

The phone

I pick it up

Cradling my cup set full of Rosé

There is no speak

Just breathing

“I miss you”

Just breathing

I scream

I slam the receiver into its cradle and leave the room

The room intoxicated with the fumes of young love and happy couples reminding me of the cold hollow inside me

“I love you

I love you so much it hurts”

The tear lines appear

Slit wrists

The blood and salt coagulate on my shoes

I bleed

I cry

My sobs drowned

While the music rages on

I’m in Marvin’s room

Sitting by the ‘phone

Just staring at them blowing a ‘shroom

The click of the keyring before the dial tone

Rings loudly

The phone

I pick it up

Cradling my cup set full of Rosé

Just breathing

© Sena Frost “17

Drake – Marvin’s Room

Image courtesy google images

Contraception

We are hedonists all the time
Indulging in the pleasures we have not worked for
We spend long hours in a drunken state of self
But we don’t want the sickly hangover that comes after
We revel in the joy of youth
Bathing in its elixir
But we don’t want the pain that comes with growing up
Freedom is orgasmic
But the toll it exacts is your life
Life
It’s not Never-land
Where Peter Pan never grew up
It’s pregnant with babies we never bargained for while we were messing around
Whether we like it or not we have sole custody
We can’t be contraceptive
Relishing only the sweet fruit and throwing out the bitter seed
Living in an idyllic pasture
On this plane of existence
You’re either all in or out
Ain’t no half measures
Or harvesting what you haven’t sown
So next time you catcall the sweet things
Be ready to birth blood, sweat and tears

© Sena Frost ’17

image courtesy google images

Words I Like To Throw Around These Days

 

Tired
Of being tired
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Time
That I waste
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Pressure
That I feel
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Inspiration
The life
That is sucked out of me
Because I am
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Excuses
That I make
Because I am
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Resilience
Because I endure
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Hope
That one day I will get out of
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

© Sena Frost ’17

Years

365 and a quarter days spent racing round a gigantic fireball

Revolutions made regularly

Spinning in perpetuity

I would say it runs in circles

Nay

Elliptical tracks are more our style

A top tilting its way round a familiar course

The yardstick called a year

In years

I am born

You grow

We live

They die

Sometimes we leap

A whole day awarded for you

We waste it

Nonetheless this course holds steady

A little blip in the Milky Way

Twinkling merrily in some alien sky

Years

Bring us together

Tear us apart

That even family becomes strangers

As bonds are loosened by the constant spinning

Yesterday’s trusting child becomes a suspecting adult

Years

Tilt me out of the circumference of your life

That a touch made today is a footprint at the beach;

Washed away

Years we’d rather forget

Filled with places we would rather not be and people we no longer are

Death and darkness in them

Years we remember

Filled with life

Sun and growth and all things nice

Where I remain inceptive

Immortal years stop not once for you

Years take the life

You painstakingly crafted something for yourself

A sudden leap sends you out of the cradle

And pop goes the weasel

We convolute

Wax and wane

Bloom then wither

As our own sense of time culls us

All in

365 and a quarter days spent racing round a gigantic fireball

Revolutions made regularly

Spinning in perpetuity

I would say it runs in circles

Nay

Elliptical tracks are more our style

An eternal present

For what exactly?

Who knows,

Go with the flow

Image courtesy google images

© Sena Frost ’17

Undefined

Today marks my 26th year on this earth. The winds blow and buffet me but I refuse to be defined by them. This is to the fullest life I have lived yet. Thank you for being with me every step of the way.

Bottom feeder.

Pariah.

Outcast.

Always the labels you try to put on me

Labels that never stick

I am

Flame dancing in the wind

Daring the rain to put me out

I

Refuse to be put in boxes and stashed away

I demand to be heard

Despite your attempts to mute me

I am blessed with faculties of wit

But I remain idiosyncratically anecdotal

I am the hoarfrost during a Russian winter

Kissing your windows and biting your limbs

Invisible

Intangible

Yet uprooting every warm blooded attempt to staple me down

I transcend the limits placed on me

Because

I am

Jack of trades

Polyhistor

Unmoved by circumstance

Grounded in concrete resolve and unyielding faith

Try as you can

But you can never make me inferior

I may be

A bottom feeder.

Pariah.

Outcast.

According to you that is

Always the labels you try to put me

But they will keep peeling off

I remain unaffected to your studies

Religiously aloof.

Until you stop burning the bridges to understand and cohabit

You will remain stymied by the many faced god in your attempts to corral me

And forever I remain

Undefined

© Sena Frost ’17

Libra

I am

The cardinal of the air

Ruler of the Seventh House

Lover of the finer things

Lord of the element of freedom

I am

The lustful draught of breath sucked from a lover’s lungs

The filled spaces of an empty room

I am the sigil of balance

Scales tipping every now and then

Exotically sensual

Anecdotally factual

A sensorium of cleansing

I am

The blackest white

The clearest night

A knight not

Just a savvy parlay-man

I am

Nought but man

And yet in me

God gives.

Image courtesy google images

© Sena Frost ’17