Spoken Word Poetry: Alysia Harris And Miles Hodges Performing “Doing It Wrong”
Alysia Harris and Miles Hodges team up together to do a Spoken Word Poetry piece called “Doing It Wrong“, to a live instrumental melody of Drake's very own song.
Alysia: I know that you’ve heard this before, I know that your patience has run thin and these love poems are getting boring. After the 5th one night stand, she said she felt like a slave to your lips. I guess that’s when you started fearing, using your tongue as a whip. When the lust is so thick and the morals so weak, her blood still violet on the inside but her lipstick’s gram pink. When you scrape your paintbrush across her canvas, nothing but water color courage and red wine to pour. Intentions and temptations blurred like, like a beautiful sunset but you swore on the blood of every black bird. Not to answer her calls, not to empty her depths, not to fish her pearl but just look at her black curls. So much midnight about her you feel like she’s cursed. And you can’t tell what’s worst, admitting you’re a coward or telling her you just don’t want her.
Miles: After the 5th one night stand with the 4th different woman for the 3rd time this month, he wrote a poem about how 2 is the loneliest number he’s ever known. And how the most at home he feels is in highway drives that wind him home, in the tar of I-95 north, across Bronx, south of route 4, west 87 towards Jersey. The damps of mattress plural she’s left behind, the contoured faces of girls wondering “why?” haunt through the air. And she likes it there. And he likes it there, in that haze.
Alysia: She is literally saying his name
Miles: In other men’s beds. She actually told them that but the last text he read said “Miles you are fucking disgusting, to think you came in me one week ago”. He puts the phone down back into the centre counsel of the car. Face steady like warriors after a clean death without a flinch or a murmur of lips as Take Care fades back through the speakers. You know, you know it’s messed up when you can start relating to that shit. When the best excuse you have for leaving before the sun rises is “she’ll never understand me anyways.”
Alysia: And yeah, the truth hurts, but don’t tell her you love her if you’re not willing to put in work. After the 5th date, with the 4th guy who looks like you I’m beginning to wonder if I’m not just a little nostalgic and I’d apologize but he doesn’t love me anyways,
he’s just in love with an idea, so I promise instead not to fart or cough. I’ma just let Einstein keep dreaming all hypothesis & semen.
Why ruin the ambiance with honesty, I just happened to have breast and ass and added a bonus for free. So whatever feelings he claims he has it won’t last no matter how bad the hangover, it’ll past.
Miles: ‘Cause I can stomach damn near everything, even gas and a lit match with your initials etched on the back
Alysia: I don’t have to think when I’m with him if that’s any constellation, surface conversation in the blind observation that hands feel like hands in the middle of the dark. But his voice don’t sound like yours no matter how many lights I turn off.
Miles: And I, and I, I can’t get high enough anymore to disregard the beautiful, young lady, my one and only, that reminded me, keeps reminding me that when you give yourself to someone, when your walls collapse and your masks are thrown to the floor. You’re so close to someone, that everything seems to have a taste, the texts of her insides, poems in self over swooning to cum at the same exact time.
Alysia: I’m reminded that when it’s done, they can call on your soul whenever they want to and will, whenever their lonely needs its fix.
1 Comments
I am trying to get in touch with Miles Hodges. I would like to book him for an event in Botswana. If anybody knows where i can find his contacts please let me know. Send an email address or share this message with him. Mandisa Mabuthoe, wisdomandjoy@gmail.com.
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