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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

feeling emotionally unstable . . .

Submitted: October 30, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 30, 2017



My tears

Are a smelly, oily, cheap kerosene

Making channels down the face of poverty

Drip, dripping, slide and drip

Precariously close

“Oh let it happen” they say in animal tongue, medulla speaking, human hush no speak

Footsteps In black iridescence

Sloppy pools of it, for shame

Lead it right to us

We’ve been found out

Close now the ravages

Of an old friend

Let it speak

And ignite

Don’t bother to mute

The wings of our escape  

Don’t stifle your laugh

For fear that it further offend

It’s on fire anyway

Metal and flesh both make a sizzle

Anger or sadness burn at the same temperature

Clutter for kindling

A kiss for a slap, a hug like a spit in the face

And when it’s done, was it wrong?

Or was it honest?

I trust it

More than I trust your reassurances

Go on, dogwhistle my anger

I will pat it on the head . . . point my finger your way

and let. it. maul. 

© Copyright 2019 Keisha Gamman. All rights reserved.

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