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Jul 2018
What would you call the home which sits,
simple, in reverence of fiction, sits in reverence,
on two knees and a nose sniffing ***** bones?
What would you call a thing which makes,
a thing which creates meaning, much less,
than it ***** the meaning away?

The past ushers futures inside that my parents
made, and their parents made, and their parents,
it seems I'm younger than I think. B o r n,
i n t o a w o r l d o f d e t r i t u s . b o r n,
into a
worldoftrash.

Happy. Happy. Happy.
My body will carry use
once I am dead. I
think I taste the dirt.

Happiness in head.
Praxis Carnelian Shame
Written by
Praxis Carnelian Shame  29/Transgender/Portland, OR
(29/Transgender/Portland, OR)   
173
         Nis, Bexis and ---
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