Monday, August 24, 2020

On a day that refuses to end


My evenings are survivors

carrying--valiant as ants--

relics of their fallen friends.


They see me turn muddy, as I 

drink me (60% water, baby)

You'd think I am called grief.


I'm keeping an eye out for you  

yearning for you for when you 

are already inside (my head) 

No comments:

Speaking up

Yes. Called my reps to share my thoughts about holding ICE accountable to court orders (they currently flout them) and asking for  arrests f...