in orange mound we sit on porches
the thin plastic legs of the chairs scrape the concrete
Spades
Dominoes
Neckbones
Chitlins
The sidewalk be scorching hot
And the mosquitoes be bothersome
We play loud blues
Drink Bud
Cuss
The oven and AC unit be hard at work
At constant war with each other
Like us over a game of 21.
I laugh and smile all too proudly
Cause yes I'm countrified
And yes I'm ghetto.
I'm the loudest and blackest there is.
You hear me before you see me
My voice enters the room before I
My body enters the room before I
And I likes it that way
Wouldn't do a thing to change it neither

im itchy as ****
memphis rained on my braidout
and soaked my chancletas

maybe gods upset
or im a bad volunteer

i swear i'll stop the i, i, i and me, me, me
i know it's like a broken record
flat notes and crooked chords
a walk of shame on my keyboard
i must know that the world does not revolve around mj
even when it closes in on me
kisses fresh trauma and scars so deep
nursing wounds that refuse to heal
i want to self pity
i want the validation
this is me opening my legs to the world
accepting that things will never go my way

i am the blues
the blues is truth
and i refuse
to let you steal
my truth before it reaches my tongue
my blues before i can sing it

i'll admit i don't sleep

there isn't room for it anymore

and i don't pray

for now i'll watch out for spiders

i must have spiders eating at my brain or some ****
because at this point even english dont make sense
all i know is that feeling of paranoia
that shameful fear of the dark
and what awaits inside it

I think of your hands
Dimpled knuckles
Dotted like staccato

I think of your smile
Teeth pearly
Waxen like ivory

I paint you in your glory
your brows furrowed together in annoyance
your surly gaze- ever mischievous and glassy
your eyes upturned like crescent moons

you are lunar, sweetheart.