from bed, soup and bumble bees 

I can’t breathe a black t-shirt filled with shoot around sweat and kneeling now is some sort of threat to thunder clap ignorance that brought no rain and they’re blinder than melons though headed that way all the same 

‘what you’re scared of’, as i point this finger of shame, isn’t an excuse anymore for shoving aside solidarity and laying claim, that isn’t the point, we can’t let you off that easily. explanations expounding excuses are exercising educated thought wasting what i bought, they need to be caught and we give them legs to keep running. filtering through memes while watching and cursing the entertainers on your team, spending the day praying away gay and pressing screens. what does this mean? it’s making me mean it’s creating a space inside my bean that can’t stay fat feeding on lean. nested people that can’t seem to be seen. the distress you press into that green bellied art called seek and destroy is a ploy to toy with washed away boys and militant compasses guiding our light though day time television isn’t an escape anymore except for reasons to clean your pores and that boils down to a subservient crown of thorns on my chest he’s crying i comfort though i’m not his best yet maybe now i can resurrect this town to see again the way we were found wandering in pacts of pleasant sounds, stinking and eating our skills were found. the lenses are focusing, blue spinning into red confusing yellow the clarity of black distorted by minions it all turns to white with a march to march against march and the ides plays out everyday, we walk around backwards hoping to splay wide open one another today and roll in our innards easing away this awful five act play. wasn’t it all over a bowl of bitter beans anyway? 

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