Chelsea Felin:

Arthur

His soul is that of a little boy Wanting to be loved
Wanting to be accepted
Through his art

Wanting to be accepted
Through his mind
A mind of mingled contradictions and uncanny fantasies
He wants to be heard
Through his abstract hand
Ramen trips
Gallery tricks
Unruffled vibes
Indisputable connection
Souls touching
Lips meeting
Hands caressing
Emptiness.
Because who does he want?
Does he even know what he wants?
Is this really what he wants?
You said you tasted love once,
Was it she or the paintbrush?
Her lips? Or the stroke?
Her eyes? Or the acrylic?
Was it the love for her? Or the abstract that you paint so effortlessly. Paint my little boy, paint. 

Untitled

My womanhood is not an invite to rob my agency in fulfillment of your libido.

a robbery of my inner strength not enough to overcome the power

the power of your unwanted thrust

unwanted fingers scratching my insides

unwanted kisses on my stone cold body 

unwanted hands cupping my breast as you pound

pound & pound & pound

outer strength not enough to break the force of your barbaric arms

keeping me restraint

bloodcurdling screams not enough to bring an ounce of sympathy 

my body is not yours for the taking

unless I warrant you the to go pass

unless I warrant you with soft kisses back

my hands and tongue intertwined to yours with passion

unless I say YES.

1 syllable. YES

Untitled

When cutting is the only thing that will do me justice sometimes. When feeling pain paradoxically makes me feel better.
Relieves my anguish
The anxiety
The sadness
The dreadful feeling of worthlessness
Even if it’s for a split second
For that split second my mind tells me to go sit in the bathroom Let the water run, scolding hot
Let the steam ease your mind
Euphoria creeps
Overwhelms my body when I catch
It’s a split second of euphoria
The simultaneous sting when the
Orgasmic.
Relief.
Joy.
Just for a split second though.
Poof
Goodbye.
a gleam of crimson.
that I wish I could grasp onto for eternity. blade slices through
A split of a second.
 

1 syllable. NO

when NO means NO why don’t you go?

what feeds that diabolical mind into an abyss of kleptomanianism?

habitual.

I know it’s not your first time, I know it may not be your last.

Why couldn’t you just leave me & my womanhood alone.

Why couldn’t you just let me enjoy my freedom

enjoy the birds singing songs of happiness

enjoy the smell of fresh air

enjoy smiling

enjoy talking

enjoy me

enjoy being. 

Why did you have to take me away from me?