short prayer

a wooden Rosary
woven between my fingers
is a pistol
if I know how to hold it right.
and Tolerance is a wrecking ball
poised inside the heads of those
who actively support fake walls
in anticipation of tearing them down.
and Need is now a blind child
who has learned to see
with his hands
instead of his core.
and Righteousness -
a privilege.

9

on my head, the work of boars
gnashing
i don’t get much company

understand,
the wire demanded a surge
the feral need grew within
stories fed into the night

when you met me
I was wild and broken,
now I am wild and free

Tear away at what you’ve been taught
The clothes on your back
The words in your mouth

Learn from the absence of teachings
The skin on your bones
The air in your chest

Tear on,
Tear on.

21 years

(pulled from a larger manifesta)

... and I am by no means grown up. While I do have moments that account for (catastrophic) epiphany, and I further pursue my education both academically and expressively, I know that my views at this intersection may have a shelf-life, or may push me in directions I am completely unaware of at this point… but I have faith in the unknown. I trust myself and this relentless nagging to veer off into the unpaved, and come out (or perhaps even never) with newfound perception and conception. I have been met with a rare kind of love and crave to be thrown down from the highest moments of pity and pride, maybe even find myself vanished in throes of indefinite land and words of comfort. I demand it. I am not afraid to be undefined.
I am hungry for self-revolution.

I challenge the ‘me’ to demand all of my energy and spirit into a cause big enough to shatter myself. Dare ‘me’ to take on terms of humanity - contribute to the earth.


And then come help me breathe it.

to the mosquitoes in my room...

fucking RAAAHHHHHHHHH
you insolent little beggars

i have birthed bowel movements
more well-behaved than you


RAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

dogged verse

all that is wild in me calls out - "i am, i am"
and all that is bourgeois cries out - "common sense!"
and heaven and hell and humanity
are newspaper stories
riding on the heels of something
bigger



all that is free in me calls out - "i am, i am"
and still futher,
"i am!"

my

cracks have been fixed.