isnt it about fucking time to stop writing memoirs of the men who broke us A.
Tag: Poetry
The irony is that we’re all born of flesh
Yet we assault the flesh that we love to look at
And abuse the flesh we love to eat
And change the flesh that makes us unique
And kill the flesh of the weakest links
A.
I knew before the news broke
My lungs had been tight- body aching, sinus pressure
Burning flesh filled the air
The Earth was dying
I couldn’t see anything wrong
The air was saturated with dewy condensation
It hung, thick on the dusty horizon
But she was falling
My eyes watered
Filled with the invisible smoke
And the crackling of wet leaves
Dehydrating and bursting veins
My veins
I was not surprised to learn it
My Goddess, brought to her knees
Magdalena was always going to die here
Screaming in the ashes of her greatest trees
– How men crucify their Gods
A.
just because some asshole created sides
doesnt mean you have to choose one
dont let them hold your rights
or gaslight you into thinking you had any
freedom doesnt taste like milk and honey
its raw like green produce
unwashed
unsprayed
unfucked with
thinking it out loud doesnt make it real
crumple it up and throw it on the ground to make you feel
the shit you do beyond closed doors doesnt matter before you post it
no one fucking cares where the bear shits- unless you know it
throw away your list bc you dont fucking need it
A.
He is old. Shaking his finger at the credit card keypad, like he is scolding it for not remembering his pin.
My son is young. Twisting in the cart, his face is sour- “I want you to GO, Mommy.”
invalid entry
“Be patient.”
invalid entry
“Can’t you just GO?!”
invalid entry
“No baby, we have to wait our turn.”
invalid entry
“MOMMY!”
invalid entry
“I need you to have empathy, please.”
…
transaction approved
Teach your children big words. They will surprise you. I promise.
A.
you can’t hide love
between the folds
of your sheets
you can’t pin
my heart
to your bed
no matter how
hard you shake me
only tears will fall
– the rest is mine to keep
you bought me a drink
that i did not ask for
like a four dollar beer
was enough
to make me fear
walking out of the bar alone
like you could fucking own
me with a tab
you were never going to pay
anyway
– i said ‘no’
life will chew you up
and spit out the pieces
that it doesn’t like
but those pieces
are the best parts of you
the ones that survived
don’t leave them
lying around
for the world to pick through
southern california is a bitter place
every year it takes more space
spreading across the country
like a depression
a tan blonde
with little clothes on
is the new face of oppression
Memoirs of a Millennial 