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Dedication to Mariam Rod
It has taken a long time putting my best words together, getting to what I mean. The army of flies and the crosshairs, the imaginary passages, disguised rites, and the cloud windows of fret. The perturbations that sting, ones distracting, in tingling and easing, to call out the aim from the mist of waffle, holding intangible never found unzealousness. I get the spite for my method, with being by the time; educated to my purpose.
The far bits are old marks, common detritions of how better my character’s voice would play out, if I was more about them or better adjusted employing a clever call, sing my words not so infatuated. Unintentional questions slamming . . . doesn’t her caress peg your next yen valuable for a suction? If it is a suction? if I can afford it?
Yes, it does, by a lie. Do I tell of my love and its pride, its groaning? I want more is its overbearing indulgence against the de rigueur, her's too in the obstinate twill that has made this book possible. I am penning another collection to waylay. Love has always been about what is right, I believe its orthodoxy is marriage. Who doesn’t agree, doesn’t get the sappy red, the apogee, or any of why scribblings bicker, get their titter when I arrive, and dupe forever why else their eyes are late.
Collection III (Valentine Edition) makes me front, it is my third, a valentine posture, calm and unresponsive to the candour of the illiterate. Mariam Rod brings skids to my hopes. So to the celebrated inselberg, let the drums roll. 🥁
Happy Valentine Mariam Rod.
No working pen in sight
My passport is drenched.
Now I see the latter exactly
The night’s dream
Fop’s trouble.
Some madness in the air
The equivocal eating by insanity.
I’ve found a third pen in my drawer
The many limes on my dresser
The odour of undrawn juice
The changing rind colour of the older.
On my rounds, I pick two more
Open the gate to the potholes.
One in front of your house
They say
You’ve gone mad.
If one canine decays, I’d feel pain
The mirror would offer anodyne.
Of all I need laundered
My bedsheet is the gaudy
They aren’t dirty or muddy
But once I saw one’s own
And caught who I am.
‘Tween the main
Lies the hanker
Aim she says.
Lang syne
Footloose . . .
Carte blanche the giddy goat
Floundering in ganache slobby
Finking out
The gyve of attraction
On fame grove . . .
Up my heart piedmont
Was a crying prithee.
I’ve got just one
The only bromidic pole
I’m back to her, that old
Spray it now . . . at home
Singeing pleasantness gold.
Susurrus, I tippytoe
By her waters, I row.
It’s fine on the radio
She speaking in my dome
Quiet, salient, drippy-drone.
Detesting, protesting, coming so
Rapine with her thoughts fold.
Striking, inflating, her gaudy role
I write; I might, tripe tow
Fecundating letters’ scold
Too, watercoloured bold.
. . . reception throes
Flaying the other woke
What can a face do to you ode?
The dough with a smile
Brought with it, the clime
Of a varying bring kind.
I had enough off the mind
On the bench wink-eyed.
Affairs meddle, too, was inclined
Got her out the heat, in time.
The nut thought not
An unwanted nut?
Lone, no-show crud?
No-show for the cull!
There are spiders, pods
Berries, badgers, worms
But not an unwanted nut.
The author monkey hurt
Taste your compunction.
I’ll be a spider, if a kludge
Leg count with our line up.
By a brazen spider’s spunk
The nut got a burg
It is one of web bores.
Who never honked neigh
Herald short, long hail
Hello, hi, oh time away
Brittle, nettle dissuade
Big who every chicane
My Beetle Bug parfait.
Mercury . . . temerity
Brought a turn . . .
Flummoxing tow on.
A shudder, shiver.
Earth heard
Cawed: God!
A drag is a bag ferrying
Gliding feet in wake of bass.
Bent kneecaps
What's the day?
Natch
No rotund.
Exploring beyond mine;
Imagination’s own haecceity.
I’m umbra of the ebbing tide
Nature’s baldachin.
With a gust at dusk
I will come.
By the clock frock
There, I will buck
The involution
Coming in by the pugs
The chinwag right up.
So please abseil now
Down
The auberge urn.
Where I held the umbrella
At just high up pica, pica
From the curve handle arc
There we went begorrah!
Taking our fall together
Gee!
Zero peal
One in
Threesome brings
Ninety wins
Quadri-scarf pins
Aquifer degree
Sum, three-sixty
Square madid
Through see
Glad-hand till
Mirror exergy
Thirteen alterity
Swish twenty-six.
Bottles and empty foibles
. . .
On this escritoire table
I suckle and correct mess
. . .
librating fable
Catfish, joystick, and flesh
. . .
Eventual may nest.
Undressing a girl is pretty
Hands apert unmatching
Revealing teeth; o ut clip
Of my tristesse oddity zip
Telling of the rest sweet.
Others’ proscenium sentries
Their unflippant reprieving
Tracing tips, shending cavils
Protean thoughts ad-streel.
Her stilettos pavé-holdings
Whispers to my amanuensis
My exurban afterburner reach.
From her—their solicitude kiss.
The mannequin raptors
The half-shelved occult.
Twine fine line punctures
Running professional awl.
Her: hold on with your claws
Leak here . . . my love strums.
Have a guard by the gate
With a clamp to be straight
Dummies head for a strait
Rapport off these pages.
Scores, halls
Mores, flaws
Postcards, borders
Answers, jankers
Urgers, wagers
Boards, gloss
Mariachi for your party doll.
So upon she made me cry
We probably had it in dye
Pattern from days, our time
Early courbette before the ride.
God could be a dog, to reign; lies
Teodora to me, to heel, an advice
Not to fap; pilfer what’s for my bride
Adjourn the sensual, just for a while
With the luxate, a suave calm bide.
Mariam’s face set to the Paris sky
Supple bum below beauty’s climb
Blouse striped in black and in white
Beret thatching Persian raven pride
Eiffel tower, croissant in hand, hind
A lens taking a shot to ever remind
Of her frain: be a nett happy twine.
Bella, Dec 26 saw a movie and quite
She had a dude warm her lonely side
I had promised Xmas, delivering a bite
It’d showed my failure taking to diarize
I was a no-show, I was home pondering
A break-up rede, it was apt, convincing
Labelling her a witch as if inadvertently
Our long chats now an unhealthy beguile
Come Dec 27, she was ex and prehensile.
“We never met.” How he met my mind
Reminding me . . . she used to be mine
And I lost the grease, to a topple plight.
Speakers chorusing on amen for miles
Hidden nifty indoors, lying fine supine
Fellatio, while the elderly played blind
Our second time intimate, also out wild
Bella’s stop at the church’s yearly chide
Now waned, I defected from being trite.
Our first time left me with a grim insight
Still on towel, I scoped close my new find
I arrived sorta early, I thought in a smile
SpongeBob tee soaking away any slight
Her face blemishes didn’t ruin the hype
Her voice drooling out in an oily strike
Known pitch matching her towel in sly
Just out of the bathroom at my alight
Looking out the cab, I was high as a kite.
“That’s a prick.” Hymen debate. “Can I?”
Sitting room floor wet in smudge sigh
My high had doubled after we dined
I wanted to, but her truth I imbibed.
The memory stir dried out my brine
Bed peace from Wale’s Vanity dry
Tramadol 100mg and seizure hide
Protecting me from the regicide
A heartbreak detour, a coleoptile
I was suffering in convulsive pine.
Easement and the loss of exam’s stile
One in, and to go, the week’s whine
“Drop the tramadol pills, come fly”
“Dup weed to thoughts that edify”
“Edibles is right, to find the height.”
Days, Robert had the halls’ mood high
The Hallelujah chorus booming incise.
On top bunk ill, her response in sight
“No.” it read, another that mad night
Nothing cut through, remaining swine
It wasn’t me, time was slow and fine
It wasn’t my room still I had no gripes
The air was real, his body warm, nice
Mo special but the screen a dead line
Every text sent, back in “No.” decline.
The chorus booming again and up in tide
Augury before, now a lover asking why
I’d never met her; past by the halls, shy
Her blare out there, here but never eye
I could hear her now, in very faint chime
In my head, as a portcullis shielding kinds
Moving away, I had to find Robert, say hi.
Too beautiful to be lost in a stinky fight
A vernal night, and its call; ember ignite
Up from his side, with a wall cold like ice
Semblance from his memory stir a flight
I got away from that place, leaving for life
My room months ago, it was the turnpike.
Felling warm, gay, wholesome, and a child
Leaving with grace a “No.” could not hide
By the bunk intimating to my ear: the light
As a boombox my iPhone blew in oh might
The aural waves doozie in colour so bright
Faint ruddy, green, and purple long stripes
Bordering sides to a new tread board sign.
Trouble has a head that heeds
It’s the question it seeks
Often of a reluctant appraising
From scheming imprints of cost.
Take up all, if you must
Leave the awakening introduction.
I had a place to go.
With an interview to close
A fine finagle to reproach
Shooting scuttle to dole.
I had bought three glues to hold
Lest my old Nike turn to brogues.
This, this, this. I held out to scold.
I’ve an interview, I’ve got to show
Her face glowing close to albino.
It’s the cheaper. It’s good to know
Still feeling simian, she says: to told.
Were these tubes empty to joke?
Can I get a replacement, one to cope?
The better brand, I’ve no cent to follow.
The fluff still, I won’t have to borrow
Just help. I can’t wait to tomorrow.
It was bought so, crossed out to sold
I leave. Leaving the superglue to hole.
For the interview, my crocs to go.
The sun heels sail
It’s been a long day.
The tyres in a wait
Vapour colours striate
Windows, soaked fate.
Hymn and him shake
Round the dim braille.
With the sun, I’m awake
Aware; the bridge shale
Ashen, with Mariam away.
Meeting an early daze
On a job picking shame
Of gizmos bought maimed
And requests for activate.
As a junk monitor’s face
Pixels less to procrastinate.
Now I’d call for, to replace
Zzzs, pinching my truth pace.
In wait, a scrub, his place
He owns an old mitigate
Not this; sell a life shapelk
A bridge to some change?
Income is! In a car so lame.
The sunset casts a shade
Now I’d text her. Hi! Hey!
So, I scribble a poetry take.
Hymn and him
In the surround dim.
He returns quick in a quake
The sunset now in a cake.
Fingers drumming knee
Now way too much beat
As with the needing glean
He has left me now in glee.
So long with my grief
He won’t pick me
Read up my mischief
He is finished.
Attitude lazy, even for a lift
It is the poetry, this poetry
I will need it, the dictionary
These fruits, this lethargy
I feel so sleepy, I mean this.
Not sleepy, eyes needing a zip
My index, thumb, playing three.
Now my brain doesn’t count in
For it has brought all these wit
This heavy, round-round pleat
When I could just, wait a minute!
There is a mental crawl
Happening when it’s morn.
I wake crying in a drawl
As I do the Anon also hulls
Rapids of bogs for my thoughts
So I get swallowed right in bud.
But today, there is a different bird
If it isn’t, the harmony of the song
Its deflection, hunch, and pompom.
A new poem in my scaling thoughts
In florescence I had gotten a call
A soft string pull, all in nature’s plot.
I used to live in wait
Till everyone left, I’d stay
By my computer, pass the delay
I’d play games to remonstrate
Too long hours, even holidays.
I’d wait, till all was quiet-ached
The wind calling, in the only break.
In my noggin, it drops in shedding weight
Robe from the shoulders of a magistrate
Magma flow acquiescing my nude taste.
But I flung my clothes and took the day
Unclad thoughts, from reproach, shame.
Then I’d sing where the hollow crowns sane
Parroting echoes, hear myself all so very gay
Hit notes and fuss on the pitch being a may.
I’d leave my room, for the new house so plain
Enjoy my time alone before the bathing stage
Where the colours even now never came
Naked like I was, only it covered my blame.
The disparity deserves clapping
A round of applause glistening
Thundering to make eyes gleam.
Nimble up the coop in a waking shin
Cops stormed the darkroom ring . . .
Before I knew, I was out the shindig.
Can’t ever tell, if it’s a whank, the queen
An unnoticed sudden screechy scream
Being awake makes all the questioning.
Checked, my bladder sac holds no urine
There is movement, some stepping.
You witness the door in its banging
If it snores that loud . . . if ever asleep?
I never was the strumpet
I had just one customer
His dialect would impose
Flipping over the object.
I am customer, he’s rider
He’s by the gate, I’m colt
A better liar now, thence.
Junior high with my li’l sister
We’d our grapple with soles
Rickety, letting everyday path.
On the first day he soaked
He knocked me out dead.
He must be an accountant!
A moving class on the road?
He did say he is. Was, meant?
Before the banks’ recap smoke
Twenty-five billion, news heard
The giants handed the mufflers
He lost his job, soon he choked.
One fought; munched the debt!
On the chalk, board as a teacher
Business studies Monsieur mo
In the interim, till he’s at his best
Didn’t, so he fitted headteacher.
After school, he would address
Pick our periods, make a mark
It wasn’t a bore, neither a bloat
It was fantastic, no air of dread.
And days he didn’t show hand
Since I thought of him as a mole
The headteacher his embarkment
He wasn’t there, or by the matter
He figured the table! He was sold.
Last night I had a night vision
An impressive farrago sundown
Birds flocked in detail copious
An anile doggerel on shoe
Wasted high on bourbon
Ambulating to Thursday
And it had on a bonnet
It matched my sleeve.
On my table were left
Two seats
I expected just you
Sparkling water and ashtray.
Never been the bad boy
The mad cock, cod-lord.
Then, there was a spell turn
It was on the b-ball court
A bawdy spot for meetups
The hub leading to the slurp
Where the dreams are long
And the mantras are too curt.
There were stories, bombs
Of escapades gone wrong
Dark promenades that hunt
Swiftly tossed off condoms
No jokes, you’d find nylons
It is the illusion hotel’s sock
It was the rep of the block
In classes, third year junior.
And management? For sure
For mornings, it’s whose call?
Those rooms. I was bought
Quickie? Why not, come on.
I was here, and sure purse
For she just had to show up
A bit further ahead, in front
It was dark anyway, no spot
The light falling with my walk
The court and crowd, far-off.
An angel is what you’re called
You are white attired in plum
Admired in the early months.
I was months in, a grey demon
Imbuing it in the night’s plot
Haha, dad never sees porn
If not, mine doesn’t disturb
So I download ‘em, and store
On his cool phone, a blind bore
Being in school ended my glut.
You know boarding house sucks
Nothing changes to drive or spur
And one morning, all that is gone.
This female teacher is shocked
Caught with her panties. Stop!
I should have said so, no more.
The red car dude and her battle?
Whoa! That’s it, why so, her voice
The science teacher who flogs.
That one time, I was up in blush
Not spanks, but that lovely husk
It gets you rasp tight in a bond
I’m on, senseless mindful talk
In my head I went on and on
Like how the windows were shut
Ones to my mind. Mind her bum
Whom called to me, and implored
Nothing to lose, to get her spunk
Lash the big body men too butt.
It went on, satisfying astricting smug
By sex, with her height, a lot ’d blur
Her patience, my conscience factor.
And here, by my locker, dawn
The male teacher quarters’ hut
Panty in hand, she goes, pours
Good morn. Maybe so, burnt
It was too early, scenic error
She’d lost her pants, and what?
Someone had to inform, report
I poured it out, every suggestion
A lengthy prowl sent to the box
The suggestion box was small
But I had just joined the club
My first note was about faults.
I stood in wait, gentle in cloth
The night brought a wild draw
A feral grit instinct production
No one is ugly in the dark fog.
It was that she’d traced my flaws
I saw hers, head like a new figure
She smelled good, but too, dumb
It wasn’t erotic, it didn’t perturb
What did was what I had in funds
It wasn’t enough to smash, cum
The business on the dick by a stud
In the dark there, I couldn’t hump
Thoughts of a stolen book, more
All that money to stroke her bust
The classroom gave a mind fuck
Its resemblance to a library floor
The treasure floor always locked
Where I fapped once, awkward
I did, cos I had read well enough
Only another interest for a fop
So I let naked figures play fort.
I paid her, but how? I cannot recall
Not mean, she let me some clomp
Pressing my business behind in gruff
All the time seeing her take my prong
Slowly spitting and sucking the knob.
When I came, two was caught
Mind clarity and a sweet influx
Then her face, some tiny disgust
Oh the library, the now old stomp
She’d sent a latitat for my attention.
Ahmed took one too many pictures
Rummy for me, being male I thought
With my Adonis face cut in the crop
I’m bought.
He’d go on, yapping ‘bout postures
Saying: how you’re reposed is sure
However you find yourself in gulf
Play ball.
Asking Moyo, he is no way at all a cross
Classmates and best friends, their bond
Six years together in high school’s jaw
I was a senior.
The days we’d no ties were a pleasure
Both athletes, so we met during sports
Sprint, beating me by a tiny gap to first
Oh his burst.
Often klatsch to smoke weed and talk
Skunk air, money moves, high fantods
He’d those by him, blacks with the pot
Not visitors.
Once, perched on a tree, he implored
In a sudden halt, of jeopardy, our turf
An eponym, the venue he’d demurred
He’d a mix-up.
Hellfire had bellowed at him a concuss
Compromised orphically, mind fraught
Quickly he douts his spliff in a full stop
Triggered taut.
In hackling pule bye, he left the meetup
Harlem sunset, the man loved the buds
It was not the first time, but this struck;
That chord.
Everyone wanted to leave town abroad
He discussed plans if he struck a windfall
With college degree foreign, not em duds
He’d warn.
We had Hellfire, and also another Rooftop
Hellfire had a shrine, house made of mud
Rooftop, a home; hotel dream shutdown
By a despot.
Evenings saw me over there on weed puff
Two spliffs, I’m buzzing with objecting buts
I left headachy, thoughts on what’s install
But I enjoyed.
His Rooftop visits are points of sparse blurs
He introduced me to his friend, not the club
In the pictures taken, his lips held a gesture
As of more.
Once with lips sucked in so long, he spouts
If I would care to swap jeans, “It is grunge.”
“A black knee-ripped dungaree” in a surge
“Your court.”
Stuttering as I sometimes do, I stop, pause
No longer in memory now; by that I let up
He wanted what I had on, and for my notch
Something smut.
Stonewash and a naked knee from a big gut
Back having it, with a better upkeep purse
I’d go down on my left knee, say the words
Mariam, let’s have fun.
Seeking fun is not everything; it is the call
Pleasure pairs with fun and it’s on the run
In the morning it’s coffee, at night it’s rum
A never humdrum.
I smoked weed for years before the breakup
Twenty-one when I drew the first short puff
Twenty-five and I couldn’t go on, not till dust
Our divorce.
But before then, pleasure took me on tour
Without Mariam, pals on the blame stub
To say I did, we visited a brothel slash pub
To end my grunts.
First time having hashish, lain next to a boy
Wishes of it being a girl, for he dealt fudge
He’d done it, he transcended, saw a whore
A pivotal point.
Final summer we left campus for a reunion
An old mate who’d left a fresher-abandon
He lost his closer friends then to expulsion
He dealt drugs.
He said he left because he got really bored
Few Messenger messages, we had to claw
We made plans to meet, it felt not so long
He decked the halls.
Joshua not long threw a fit, fit for a jock
Everything has been wrong from the jump
Even the car broke. Drawing my attention
Continuing in bug.
We’d just concluded our finals, no touch ups
Freedom. End of university. End of lectures
And a wuss who’s known, laid whores, bucks?
He had my wits gone.
I’m hopeless romantic with the underworld
He gets up to leave, so I follow him on abut
He’s the one who’d done it; I play the bong
I needed to. I must.
Just out. A thing amiss I could not tell at all
That my phone was missing, it had dropped
Bode handed it to me in good augur launch
The worker wasn’t buff.
Nothing changed in that town and I got a job
An initial hotel accommodation with hotspot
My office was nearby, I was on a row of luck
It was a pleasant adjust.
My new town on the scale, was a good bump
A conducive estate, featuring relevant shops
Quiet mornings with a keen sense impetuous
For the doors!
A new Apple Mac with mountains for desktop
One afternoon, my FaceTime got a cool buzz
It was unexpected in every way, a total prong
An employer usurp.
Longer conversations later through the duct
Days after, I got money and very good cause
Spending more than the month’s earn sum
So I raised the crump.
Most nights, we get a drop to the same spot
Light another one up, because it is that just
Pepsi Cola, great skunk, and live music pump
Pass the buck.
Relaxed with friends and a colleague from work
Ideas we never heard flowed in slow prologue
Action figure said no to excitement and crutch
Fuck this crawl!
He wasn’t a coward, he balled hard, a dawg
He’d sex whenever around, had no remorse
A field player since his first income catapult
No blotch.
Oh I just couldn’t have the habit on staunch
He’d leave, my colleague was taking a drop
For his hotel, we for the ATM to get blunt
Following our plot.
Two luxury bedrooms to my name by dawn
A tart’s iPhone on the bed, how she forgot?
Out of the plot, a gang bang was her employ
I too felt lost.
Another time, another place, for another shot
To reignite the plot, I had just received a wand
Action figure had been around, counting sluts
Leaving me the clot.
Man, what do we do tonight? To me like a report
. . . we should hit the club. He suggests with force
No, I can't tolerate the music, smoke what I want.
I returned in a punch.
Let’s get a whore, stay at home, smoke rocks
It’ll be a gang bang, I’ll call up Chvrch my plug
We were at a bar, waiting for meals; in decision
Let’s hunt!
Using a choice service we got through the worst
Met up with Chvrch for a gram of the stain blob
Headed back to my apartment, ready for the fluff
I was soon left in a lurch.
Action figure in the bedroom treats women as gum
He chews them, pops them, and loves their engulf
He’s in the bedroom, I’m in the toilet, and I’m stuck
He’s the one focused.
An evening in my office, ring! My phone’s blurt
Thirteen seconds of his hand gripping a fat bum
Straight from the soda shop, with no blip of fuss
A straight boss.
Oh, I couldn’t leave, the girl brought in no joy
Her long eye lashes told me off like a soy boy
And when he came in, it wasn’t at all for rush
Here I was, PC Plod.
He had burnt a tiny amount, alive, and in store
I am fine by this. A smile on his face as a duck
My headphones made love to me like a faggot
If I could see the bulge?
Then he was done, and he was around for a burn
Meaning also, it was time I went for my own turn
A sort of gang bang? I sensed a no daring bunch
I’d stalled, for a flop.
As if facing the music, I branch out summoned
A nog to what is rising and push for a mugshot
He’d be there as I fucked her to watch me cum
That’s the stuff.
With my pellet in, I in no time get a full stun
I didn’t get it, I had on rubber, a good condom
But it wasn’t real, definitely a thing was wrong
I was in top crumb.
I was scared, I drew out, seeing her visage fond
A second scare, it was dark and I couldn’t trust
Maybe I fucked her, maybe I didn’t, can’t recall
It’s a blank cloche.
Pleasure chase is everything; it isn’t always yum
The hedonist serves the animal and it, his word
Action figure told me all about his favourite toy
An app you don’t grub.
Who will be the incel in society? Him why not.
They need someone, but I found you; that’s love
Like an ad, walking me through his chatting hub
In measure, a tailor.
I got a girl, had her once, a time for a second
She loved it, it seemed, she called, I blocked
A jolly session, I pondered my condom off
Oh, oh, oh her buns.
I no longer own those old rip jeans anymore
But I could buy one, better, get a franchisor
It could be a free rip jean brand distributor
To Mariam’s love.
Bye-bye to the world of bong
Cannot tell why I love Taylor
Maybe it is her white shadow
The one in the dark of the prod.
With keg, bets, my days a chump
Inez, Carolina, the big warm rug
For I don’t need a wakeup call
Fast asleep in her dream broth.
When it’s morning
Impregnated with the thing
Of uncertainty and choice
How well I’ve done by my chores
I lay on my grunt
Swelling in the sun
Giving for the acrid.
In the lake for the trip
It took
On the lane for the whistle
He shook
Several waves across the broad
We looked.
Mistakes appliqué
Add a very big slake
Dodge the mindful rod
At the brittle lip sync
With an itch, a stitch of salt.
For weeks I’ve watched
My lips caught
Careful I blot thought
Of you not wrought.
Tramp stopped short
Your silent beaut cot.
Vehement ridiculous
Of a pensive torch
Beaming in foist flush.
Sidling ghosting shawl
My caught oppy love
In crease that isn’t much
The knee punch not worth
See your legs, not touch
Between all near hurt.
Do we love someone
We don’t ever check up on?
Ever, for it, not rattle.
When it’s their presence
Here again
The awareness of feelings.
Does the gust swell . . .
The right flight of the butterfly.
Their voice unheard
Footsteps cuddle
Whisper the muscle suite
Our love.
For how long have I had to wear a cap?
Twenty-four.
If that’s a year for every hour of the day
A do-rag?
It’s okay to say I sleep with my cap donned.
I have nothing beautiful to hide or cover
No beautiful long locks like Samson
So you don’t spot my strength.
Not enough ferocity as Mahsa Amini
So you don’t pick out my valour.
Scars and bars, a tale starting age six.
I hide scars though detained within bars
Bars holding grasp-stories I could never tell
A beach afternoon with my sparse hair out.
Sometimes I think when I am older . . .
“Older” seems like a hold on the change I await
The ums in circle of my own social weight
The moral of my own morale.
Starting from just us two
A ball, a light fixture, a veranda
I’m six, she’s three years old
The ball isn’t ours, it is lost
Over the fence it came like a gift.
Back from school days after
I am alone and up in the air above me
It hits a glass light-fixture.
Below I’m blood stained frozen in shock
White shirt fused in red gush of blood
Soaking . . . soon I am back to.
At the tap, I wash away thoughts of my wrong.
I have a picture at seven
I have an oversized watch
And a scar
No cap.
It asks when I’ll go without a cap
Give back the oversized watch to the photographer.
The one who is three thinks she did it
Cos I lied.
“You threw the ball, told me to go pick it.”
“And it came down.”
The real fall comes from who broke the thing.
For us.
She says I am wrong, but I believe the older knows best
“I lied back then.”
How best do I know with my cap on now?
I’ll be thirty soon.
When I was twenty-two I spotted no hat
I tried a new haircut and a friend told me
“Hey I’ve never seen you try that; I like it.”
What has changed?
I convince myself it’s the nutrients
But it’s the mural scars from the moral bars.
The holding back; to a time I dream of
A time like the past I won’t remember
Six could be wrong, three could be right
If I don’t do something.
I did.
I recorded a public video with no cap
And now I know all the help I can get.
To Mahsa Amini for all the help she gets.
I always make up time
Staying away from chime
Crime
Penning rhymes
Telling incredulous sour lies.
Oh, for a silly needless time
Come with me
Tend my style.
I am sincerely grateful for my family, the Hiltons for helping me navigate thus far. My friends remain irreplaceable. Thank you to Lili Reinhart, Taylor Swift, Kendall Jenner, Liam Payne, Charly Cox, Dua Lipa. I have had moments without any aux cord for my headphones, but not without Diplo to read my poems. Thank you to everyone who thinks I rock. Thank you David Dobrik, Melanie Joy Fontana, Marina Di Guardo, Addison Rae, Jean-Christophe Bouvet and Logan Paul. Thank you Snoop Dogg for being here from the start. Thank you so much for Collection III (Valentine Edition) everyone.