Tag: Writing

I don’t know how to do this, to fall on the point

of other people’s swords, cleaved open by prejudice

refusing to die. I lick my wounds like a sick dog

and wait for the cycle to repeat itself—

head eating tail eating life eating liberty eating

the pursuit of my happiness.

I cannot love this demon, it is not mine to bargain

and beg with, so other than myself as I see it reflected

back to me, while I stand behind the counter at work

and wait at red lights for traffic to move

onto wherever it’s going.