Oh Kindred, you stared with eyes as wide as
almond shaped thumbs. The green glowed imitation
innocence as the yellow blazed with blind fury inside
both orbs. I saw grave intentions in a hair breaths
divulgence. You always fucked me nicely, then
ferociously into end stage oblivion—I never in my life
met this man. Thank God, the horrendous Kindred
slapped my ass—whap! He redressed as he muttered
a teaspoon phrase. He bolted and I vomited. At an age
of impression I learnt that there exists one omniscient
and tyrannical fuck. Kindred you taught me without
my consultation. You reminded me of a Preacher I met.
He taught me fire and scuffed knees without my
acquiescence. I escaped with just the scraped knees.
Jessica Klein has a BA in English, Creative Writing, and a minor in Mass Communications she received in May of 2013 from Wilson College. She tries every day to forge a new path in order to continue to pursue her dream of a published work of poems. A memoir of tragedies that led to lessons she holds onto, because these lessons raised her awareness from a drugged life to a different one.