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.