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“i want to implode— i want to (un)become”
―
―
“Essay on Submission"
Having ebbed in the disbelief of it instead of its weight.
Stone-tiled the floor the blood a trickling fire confessional.
Here the ocean metaphor refused.
He tore me shut & seeping no vastness.
To marvel or hide in.
Being told i don’t exist i laugh with wounded teeth into.
The folds of his larynx a choir of bees rattle me.
Into myth less the mechanics of.
Throat than the usage the context neither divorced from combustion.
Of birth more or less i forgave him before.
He entered because he swelled for me i could never trust.
Myself in his hands but i did want.
Him.
Knocking leaning into the sliver of light he.
Missed the wastebasket he couldn’t bear.
The sight of me i never slept.
With the lights off i don’t know that.
History.
But i named it so it can’t be.
Holy.
Or rather question.
Of distance my skin.
And cold waters my skin and woundless.
Skin i wade in the contradiction.
After i wanted only to be.
Held.
No.
Distance his hand & the small of my.
Back his hand & the lip.
Of a waterfall here i reject the landscape.
Its vastness i don’t think.
We’re looking for the same thing you.
And i you’d think olympus.
Would dethrone itself of goldenrod leaves i told you it was.
Blood did i claim it.
Mine i am built of avoidable.
Violences with one drop apocalypse.
The burning wilderness you can see yourself.
Out now histories like this cannot.
Be known let alone escaped even the one.
Where i set fire to my colonizer i can afford neither.
Reclamation nor reconciliation.
No.
Unfragmented i cannot give you an ending.
That isn’t body lunar.
And concave staining instead.
The bathroom floor.”
―
Having ebbed in the disbelief of it instead of its weight.
Stone-tiled the floor the blood a trickling fire confessional.
Here the ocean metaphor refused.
He tore me shut & seeping no vastness.
To marvel or hide in.
Being told i don’t exist i laugh with wounded teeth into.
The folds of his larynx a choir of bees rattle me.
Into myth less the mechanics of.
Throat than the usage the context neither divorced from combustion.
Of birth more or less i forgave him before.
He entered because he swelled for me i could never trust.
Myself in his hands but i did want.
Him.
Knocking leaning into the sliver of light he.
Missed the wastebasket he couldn’t bear.
The sight of me i never slept.
With the lights off i don’t know that.
History.
But i named it so it can’t be.
Holy.
Or rather question.
Of distance my skin.
And cold waters my skin and woundless.
Skin i wade in the contradiction.
After i wanted only to be.
Held.
No.
Distance his hand & the small of my.
Back his hand & the lip.
Of a waterfall here i reject the landscape.
Its vastness i don’t think.
We’re looking for the same thing you.
And i you’d think olympus.
Would dethrone itself of goldenrod leaves i told you it was.
Blood did i claim it.
Mine i am built of avoidable.
Violences with one drop apocalypse.
The burning wilderness you can see yourself.
Out now histories like this cannot.
Be known let alone escaped even the one.
Where i set fire to my colonizer i can afford neither.
Reclamation nor reconciliation.
No.
Unfragmented i cannot give you an ending.
That isn’t body lunar.
And concave staining instead.
The bathroom floor.”
―
