Wandrerin' - wonderin'

Theres a certain sadness in your eyes that only poetry could name and a heaviness to your soul the palms of my hands couldn’t weigh

May 2nd, 2026.

|| I’m Pregnant and It’s Shakespeare’s ||

Make something good of me

Before you carve my name into the rock

Dream of something for me

Something worthy

Birth from me something greater than I’ll ever be

Plant in me a seedling of dichotomy

Almost absurd in its existence

Almost beautiful in its absurdity

I’ll claw at my stomach until it blossoms from the remnants

The afterbirth smells of drain cleaner and lemongrass hand soap

Left over from when I had tried to clean myself

of the sticky decay I was sure I was made of

Like thick mold growing in lukewarm tin cans

Let the labor be vile and nauseating

The most abhorrent act of creation you’ve ever seen

I asked myself how to get bloodstains off ‌floor carpet

As if this were a question I’d have known the answer to

My ego died on a Tuesday on the East Coast

In the parking lot of the Food Lion across the street

Invention is a legacy passed down to the best of us

My father and his mother wrote poetry

And left the gift to their youngest in having me

So I could butcher their names and god’s and my own

For the sake of art and liberty

I was never a master of metaphor

It came to me and I wrote and i sent it out

Because if I cannot be worthy