type…

Saw you in the supermarketand wondered what your kiss tastes like in the mouth of my mindsubtle hints of nicotine, staletraces of fresh dishonesty you always lie to me, nigga that christmas you gifted me gonorrhea of the throat i choked on a million regrets stuck in the toilet of my neckand gagged on the burn of my … Continue reading type…

making space

we r a not of this world ppl n the absence of places 2 b / we hav mooovd ourselves 2 other planets / planted our colorless flags on invisible cratered space / & called dibs on a new moon on our moon we breathe free / & never worry of foot on neck / … Continue reading making space

imperial desire (or why won’t donald die)

  all of his orgasms were made of blood he spoke of economies of ecstacy, preservation, and saving the world from doom with a sour mouth that feasted on the death of powers which he absorbed into himself and transmuted into pleasure tongue strokes from the mouth of a viper imputing venom translucent and sticky … Continue reading imperial desire (or why won’t donald die)

foul

  black people stood in line for chicken sandwiches and i was unspeakably ashamed then i thought of sunday dinners in church fellowship halls where we ate bird to put back the things we gave to god and it was holy in haiti the neck is wrung with fierce violence after makeshift passover where blackfoot … Continue reading foul