1
at the gynecologist’s office she says
there is a poison circulating through my blood
says its chasing the embryonic versions
of my existence like a minotaur in a labyrinth
i walk home below dirty rainbows
whirling in the dead-end of my womanhood
sleep for endless hours
dream in blue-shaded parables
every version of myself meets for the seance
argues over the provisions of my failures and successes
mother, maiden, child, crone
sits arrogantly against the reality of my fresh disposition
each pointing her finger at the other
unable to admit shame over my new set of consequences
2
he’s to blame
the nigga who poisoned me
and the other one
who borrowed my innocence, traded it for a bump of cocaine
and the other one
who mirrored me as victim to our own addictions
and the other one
who groped me at the afterhours
and the other one
who was too afraid to love me out loud
and the other one
who was looking for his mother in my pussy
and the other one
who deemed my body a play chess on pleasure island
the nigga who needs to read this
isn’t even apt to be on this page
my whole life
i’ve just been talking to dirty walls
i’d smear my period blood
and enscribe “free” for fun
but realized that dying was the only thing
i really agreed upon when i came into
this weird ass plane
this revolving door of contradictions
this ongoing diatribe
of avoiding all the ways this life can end
i know i’m on my way out
i exited stage left before my first cue
my life is now a monologue of deep mourning:
prolonged sobs echoing into a chamber of infinity and doubt
i will no longer keep this rage locked inside my belly
and what happens when the cage is sick
of coveting me as catatonic
and what happens when i get bold enough to stick
my head above the clouds, admit that a sunny day cost a penny too many
and what happens when i tell him my womb doesn’t work
i guess it forgot to be the it god designed me never to be
the niggas who needs to read this
branded me a “nigga-making machine”
they want revolution but play cog in the utility belt
of men that gang bang mother earth
they parade around as moral men
*fathers to generations of goddesses downgraded to sex-slaves
*boys disguised as warriors who placate their failed gender with their miniscule dicks
*poets brooding through their cities held prisoner to their transient thoughts
they plant polluted seeds populating thirsty minds
and then laugh at the parable of consent
deem it a wayward idiom of the very thing
they claim they want they never had
man…
my pussy is metastasized into a doorway of consecutive non-believers
she finds truth in a psyche that’s lost its grip
her name: none
her language: barely
the hour: wedged
the gag: their semen sliding into two day old panties
each droplet seeps into a stain of thorns and petals
bushed at the opening of her now pursed lips
the moisture is fixed and mumbles only at the crossing of legs
only at the entrance of his name
ozymandias
conquering time with a fever snatching
grains of sands conquering upwards
inhaling storms
eddies of indecision
to give birth brooding bubbling
berating in fantasies
friction in creating life
mothering to dictate if it is worth lived
pendants of slurs highlighting incantations of vastness
avoiding duration
avoiding dying
avoiding temptation
avoiding orgasm
you thought climax would be the next word
you think wet is a testimony
you think hard thinking did little for the heart
frantically focused fermenting the fester of fruit
my pussy
it clamps down
it bites until bruised
it writes letters to strangers
it venus fly traps men who smile pearls in bright rooms
it kisses foreign men in dark alleyways
it’s determined to deepen my madness
permeate until sacred
sacrifice and then leech off the excess
that bleeds for the full moon every month
making bastards out men’s strongest soldiers
3
a message from the ancestors:
this is not your fault
but it is your responsibility to heal through
let the tears you cry sting like acid
instead i popped a tab on califia’s island
and heard the sirens cry from the river banks
my friend
she heard them too
she was more eager than me
to dive into a divine death
i convinced her that drowning
was the event that was already taking place
convinced her that they weren’t beckoning for her to join them
convinced her to hear their lullaby
as offering
as reconciliation