Dark and fertile Is my skin for gardens to flourish. I am the soil’s second-cousin.
Legend has it Politics shouldn’t be brought to the Dinner table. Though, When your existence is political You do not have the privilege of Leaving politics at home. When you meet the parents You bring your politics In your skin, Your gender And your identity.
For all the friends I tore up, When I was torn up. I’m sorry for your scars.
The industry Won’t tell you You are worthy, It won’t whisper sweet proverbs in your ears. It will tell you “no,” But you must be the one to hear “not now” Never wait for someone to choose you, Instead choose yourself.
Las Vegas Is a city of sandcastles Built to the likeness Of great empires.
Sick love Bites tongues And kisses lips without Sincerity.
Bad Presidents show you who your friends are And who your friends are not. Bad Presidents out the nazis, the fascists, the racists, the homophobes, and the monsters Because they have to be elected by someone. Bad Presidents make you talk about politics Even though ediquette has taught you not to, They make scream, they…
Yes love, Sweet things are sweet— Though tart or tasteless To those Lacking the tooth: Honey, is an acquired taste.
A stranger leers at me before I take a seat on the bus. He readjusts his body in my direction preparing to say something, but before he can utter the full sentence I turn him down cold. “You look—” “Not interested, thank you.” “Wow.” I look out the window. “Can I ask why?” This perks…