Rupestral design in the stuff of sound and the psyche of the universe in a disk on her fingertip she lounges like it’s a life or death mission to sit still and watch the kid kiss his reflection hunt and kill his ghost she sits still while the harbor hipped serpent crosses limping I haven’t given up on the serpent yet
I haven’t left my pancreas alone I have yet to surrender thought to feeling when it comes to being touched traced suctioned with the venom of behavior I haven’t tasted the poison yet and spit it back at the dreading sun I am someone unafraid standing at the nape a of flame and wagging deeper reaching Montana numb and acting heaved by some practical hunger pretending to crave what he craves a stray mime of desire cause I wanna see what I’m watching I want a seat with my seed at the table I wanna topple the table and everything it upholds
Make sense of this boyhood unraveling the desperately stooped stance the antler rancid stench of copacetic black boy you can get it he can get it I less than whisper tease turn to catch his yearning eye cry blood to Kyle Abrahams Does the slave inherit a need to be watched was I past that and making slaves like factory with my seeing Did I slay my daddy before the officer could or just after we lost the 13th way of looking close your eyes baby Ma gon be a wild one Ma don’t confide in the god of surrender but tempted by the cliff and emptied by temptation My black chosen one My black chosen one
