Today I remembered that you are dead

It wasn't remembering at all but realizing--probably that's what I was doing, you know, that you are dead, and it felt like chewing foil

Maafa

So I wrote this new poem. Maafa on a Monday Ride Through the City in Which I Decided I Should Just Go Ahead And Die Alone You have things but say you do not value them, well only my clothes which I keep because they’re quality but I could get rid of if I needed [...]

A Little More Than What’s Left

I will not die with blood on my hands nor on discarded panties; not on the sheets a spot on the basement floor; under your nail & the stories chortled, drowned in beer; not buried in the front yard; not speckled the color of brick across every opportunity that comes for love; will not wear [...]