cynthia decrying piracy

you feel compelled to stare and salivate. stop. enough.
you touch me, with sticky fingers and desperate eyes. i'm disgusted, cannot get away.

this is the line. this is the deep rooted place, where my soul, my roots, my heart resides.
and you may not enter here. you stranger. you thief, who takes what is not offered.
do not presume to rub yourself all over me, size me up and take my measure. i am not for your pleasure. i am here to bask in the glow of my own companionship, to light the flame of oblivion and dance inside the ocean of release, floating through space and time untouched by limitation and restriction.
i am a primal being, red with heat and lit from the core. magma pours from my bubbling center. a consuming fire, a living thing, a slow explosion of innate humanity. this is the point of origin that is my female-ness, and of it i claim sovereignty.
again you presume my sexuality is offered, because you can see it, feel it, smell it. did not your mothers ever tell you, childish greedy creatures of opportunity? to presume, is to make an ass out of u, and me. believe me when i say for all that my ass is fine, and fine it is, it is mine. i, all of me, is for myself. what slovenly bravado permits the notion that a woman's body might be used as a scratching post? where did it come from?
i am angry. i am humiliated. i am now harder, faster, more ferociously defensive of my autonomy. to share the self is a gift of such value you cannot comprehend as you slink and stumble across the floor of another lost, lonely night what you do in your disregards and gross disrespects.
we are asteroids and comets colliding with other heavenly bodies, leaving damages, changing orbits, creating star systems with our collective energy. brothers and sisters we lower and destroy in these experiments of physics. it is time to be honorable with each other.
i will no longer permit myself to be so damaged by every encounter, no longer to be demolished on impact. take heed. she who was once keen to play the dithering, dizzy game of self-dethronement drives a stake into her so haunted self. no qualifying, quantifying, justifying. this is the end of defeat and surrender, the last dawn of the dead.
in the new world order, there will be no zombies, no necropolis of memory and haunted catacombs to wander through without aim, hopeless. lost and forgotten and bruised.
there will be light, and brightness, and fruits like manna from heaven falling from all the trees. trees of life, and knowledge. all will taste of sweet peaches, and i will unfurl myself like a flag unwrapped by a sea breeze. neither of surrender, nor of piracy. a flag of independence.