Category 365 Collection

My people be water people so long
they grew gills

vaseline more high-top fade 

more pomade pressed

i wish to be burnt alive
by what i love.

i will peel the orange for you
and in the moment you hold
the piece in your mouth

It is the aperture that we cling to,
an exit that implies a return.

I remember that Halmoni was the first person to call me a bitch.

the sand squishes up between 

my toes like brown sugar

float inside you, fondle your hear

Summer in the 90's meant the word schizophrenia did not exist inside my mother

I want a crown of daisies
& seeds of joy that will Insha Allah
become flowers on my grave