Monday, March 20, 2017


let me get used to all that we're taking back
from the white man who formerly robbed us. i'm at that point
where i'm separation itself, that
in-between spot. of course, there's separation

in all of us. we're not stupid here.

let me look at this as a bridge to decisions
i've dreamed of making.
everything we're doing is for potentiality, size
of the grain of sand from the never-ending story. grain of sand
from which
many wishes come true, one after the other.

i may get all self conscious around those pale impersonators
but i'll learn to adjust
to the new living- me, the pair of fangs.

if our efforts backfire,
let me shrink to naivety, how it was before, so this will not
come back to me.

i'm gonna get this to be the part of me that feels so good to
let out. it does seem muddy
in secrecy (the backbone who can suck my dick).

sacred fire gets sick of me denying its rights, so
spontaneously it possesses me
until i release it
and wildfire is the world.

i guess wildfire is the world, no matter what, though, huh.

i guess this is me counting on fire to be justified in its rage
just for now; this being
my obsessing over the fat chick with pistols and perfect tits, who i salute
when i wear all black- one observes

i'm a trick of hers that's been turned.

her will broke me. determined 'kuz she says so.
she lives in caves in afghanistan and
sacrifices animals to nihilism.
has no problem resisting persuasion
('kuz it disgusts her),
does not read, is hardly effected by current events
unless they effect her life evidently

admits porn makes girls look bad at acting, and fucking is gross
even when doing it, only eats dirt

has never spoken a word
has never looked at the stars. seems obligatory.
hates obligation (believes
in hate). sees obligation
in things other people do, as in
they do the things they do to themselves.

complacency is the white witch.

i am under her wing
when i'm with her, you are intimidated by us both
raping your dreams

the ones you block out, or interpret
to exhaustive, or declare nightmares.

when i'm ready to wake up, whenever i want,
i'll be forgiving, 'kuz i'm liberated now.
i'll say, "sorry," in the vein of
showing respect, not admitting shame. shame is dead. i killed it
myself. i had turned into death
just to kill shame how i wanna. you just look shit in the eye
when you least have it in you.

blood, muscle, brains, will, balls.