mmm, the God of the unconscious.

the big question is

did I give up?

give a poem, juice

about a relationship I don’t need to be in.

they are the ppl of understanding.

their minds are alive

my rigid wall becomes sand

I’m choosing this undoing

I like my deadness

I have to be a society

or else they’ll confuse

me. I’m young today

I talk to my blunt

they barge whore

might as well write the date

I ballerina in contemporary

like violins

carrying

these unborn tears. they tried to kill me,

a bastard child. a bare-backed woman..

ya see me hafie..

words rumble through their minds.

to be conscious is to be a god.