theres a sadness welling inside of me that disguises itself as apathy.
I always remember that I can never truly trust.
every ounce of unabashed love I’ve ever harbored has begun to rust.
I’m covered in dust that I brush off by laughter, but I’m unable to reach the ever-darkening corners in the room that is my consciousness.. that continues to spread as if it were mold. It eats at me gradually, leaving a residual pain accompanied with every fond memory.
is it maniacal laughter or an attempt to stuff away the pain?
Is it silliness or is it an escape?
I slept all daybecause I care about myself
I slept all day
because I value my internal wealth
catch me any day of the week
But today I have relaxed my nerves
I’ll need them for what has yet to emerge
I wasn’t at no woman’s march
those things have never been for me
women’s movement have always been a pedistal for feminine white supremacy.
I don’t have time for well meaning allies;
holding my arms, calling me strong while they cry.
My blackness — supposedly an impenetrable armor.
meant to shield people from knowing that sometimes I want to die.
I must be ornamental yet uphold our men-
and hold my chagrin from their disdainful side eye.
When I speak,
When I’m silent,
I don’t feel like it today;