Who helps birth her?

The cancerous bitter take home final

Foreshadowing the fact that is boring

Monsters only look skin deep but all beasts can’t be beauties

How can she smile with that shaky finger?


It’s a very distinctive stance.

Withheld from the roundabout direction in the bubble that burns

in that deep, deep shade of hallway.

The stairs will always be a night to remember, if only fondly

Held by faces scattered with eyelashes and padlocks


Fragmented narratives trapping ethnicity

Grounding and solidifying the static that blows the windex

Loosely stitched in the barrel of the cocked gun

But you can’t see the justification when it sits in your lap

You can’t break the silence when you’re singing the same song.