Ana Pokora

Mary Jane

January 3, 2014

Some Call it Cannabis
It heals the soul, right?
Tampers your memory, doesn't seem so.

I can't control them, how they feel.
No way to prevent my emotions either
I bleed hesitation, I bleed drugs.
I don't need it, I want it,
So, does that mean I need it?

Its my consultation, she understands me.
She's beautiful. They call her,
Poisonous.
But the wreath of my breath against hers,
it wakes me.
She's beautiful, with her luscious red lips,
the green meadows that round her hips.
The spikes that makes any man bleed.

Happiness, she is my happiness.
She will always stay, until I light her away.
But leaves me in the zone, in control,
Zen.
I love you Mary Jane

Posted by Ana Castillo. Posted In : Poetry

Rape

January 3, 2014

I was 5 years old
When she took me to her boyfriend's house
she went to the back with him
I was in the living room
I was 5 years old.

Then she got married, sort off.
To another man, I guess.
But can you really call him a man?

I was 20 years old.
He spoke to me about love.
Told me I was perfect.
But in saying I was perfect, I could only be his.
I was 20 years old.

The memory triggered.
5 years old again.
She was screaming, begging him to stop.
Telling him to let go.
I was standing, paralyzed.
I couldn't he...
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Posted by Ana Castillo. Posted In : Lifestyle