Sub-Literary Musings

when you're home alone at night holding your pillow tight set free and close your eyes- watch all the thoughts go by you've never seen the rain the sun has never stayed it's always been this dark but your mind is a window you'll never leave my sight not in this candlelight made the sacrifice— yours ‘til the afterlife we're never gonna fight with words of paradise you set me free and I mean it: I don't mean to boast

I. warm side of pillow II. devil's rain III. the sisserou has an ugly face IV. I'll leave this island someday

recent studies show us love, show us how to be the warmth or lack thereof between, between whatever births dichotomy: between

I, a puppied dog am incapable of frowns

We are the same dead together.

We want to be You’s. We want Being’s, too.

"the sun rains, too" the sun rains too, a fiery shower catches, life is born in pain: People, wrung from Nature's towel stains day by day every cloud is born in blue, is birthed by sun for yes, the sun rains, too the sun and clouds are one inside, outside, blue, blue

your name lurks between the corners of my eye so I staple lids, close them shut before I stayed the jaded splinter, future spilling red to cake my lashes in the sun, glitters like your lips against the passion of our jousting hips in time, in time, they say in time our fortune runs drier than the chapped lips of starving kids or plastic sans a purpose in the pockets of the White kids that own accounts with many passwords— we forgot the password so we spent our love in blindness we had wanted thrown away far away, across a thousand spinning globes around pipe dreams axes burning down the ear, begin to at the lobes and ashes someday of the soul and flushed ‘til We are just an echo our parents' hips, jousting lips against our cheeks— my eyes— glitter in the past: sprinkle red, sprinkle love, flow like suffering under skin

a polymath, I've always been throughout the proof implored: expression as a resource is nature's endless pour

I never have on my behalf contended (death on Earth) having observed has-been babies giving birth from a casket to the casket, Moses' basket of rebirth like mother before him, tortured, with the hereafter of labor, the aftermath of afterbirth, and sometimes worse—   oh, the pride! the prejudice of performative self-worth! in those preserved for pain, firmly stripped of gold screwed off the walls of glory holes by solid worms: come and go— come to claim your worth for which you've none, as I've discerned the suff'ring, the slav'ry: you, capital punisher are the spur of hurt that asserts. and inserts. and earns. to punish her blood, why do you punish from heaven, sir, if you are stalworth? is it that you can't be sure? I, for one, have no demur— there is no freedom for a girl, none, thanks to every Father living on this dirt

Listen to Outkast while reading Kropotkin Run the radius of space in gym shorts and Jumpmen Fall asleep and look out the window,You're on a comet filled with cookies:Bring them home—Black and White, freshly baked, half moon ellipses Doting the chagrin of your eyes with crucifying sharpiesOn the dot: they name you Halley 'cause you're never stopping— treading the shallow depths of humble swimming holes daily Playing footsies with the whats, why's, and the maybes of Tootsies, the Pop of your dreamsReciting the poetry of Humbert Humbert in his frailty Ride a silk moth towards an island in the sunshinewith rum and some flowers: It's golden hour Spread your lungs in its aura; cake your insides in flames Burn and die. Be alright again. Be the end of all ends.

can you imagine being Black and mentally ill if your fanbase is large and loud, if your world is dark and handsome, if you’re comfortable occupying one hand with black ink or pixels salvaged from the sap of which your words find life, while the edges of your other hand fingers deep away the brown of moist bark on which we hang: “I am a strong white female, and you - you, are rotting away. I turn the subtle green leaves above your head to gold or red to match the bloody carpet flowing beneath us. I will scream louder, harsher, sexier than the slapping of your giant Black dick across your work-horse thighs. And if anyone asks, I’ll say it was my voice Like the wind Commanding your tiny, dirty penis to wave goodbye To all victims of your Serendipity. I am the new Aphrodite. And you are my unsatiated muse.” We beg, and beg, and beg of you, in your language to leave us, hanging dry and dead— we’ll shrink, and crawl, and speak French massa, and proper English too, and cry, cry our entitled fears away, til the blood-soaked earth beneath our feet gives way to peace, and harmony, in your name, This is the house of Usher, And dirt looks better on us, anyway