a black boy’s currency is his life
you argue against my humanity
so much i / dream / i am / a loaded / gun
so much i / bear / the dead bodies / of boys / inside me
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i like when you call me kid,
not machine
i am {no myth}{wild blood moon}
r i s i n g
so much = rage trapped in ice, my future frost bitten
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& womxn cry for me & men rape me & i fight myself
∞
in a hot, grey box
a vine on the race
tree
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how sad / you been
so much inside / me
& don’t know / me