I don't **** my captors
No Swedish syndromes
Nor those meatballs
From hell or IKEA.
You can keep your pallid shine.
You can keep your caucasus wine.
My body is a temple trash can
But you're too rank to fit.
You talk of culture
of progress of depth
the only depth I've seen from
y'all is the capacity of
the frying pan
in which you tossed us
in the very spices we grew.
Refining the heat
until the blister is a
marketing point
an authentic char
while the moon sits
in the sky like a
cold unseasoned
wafer of reflected light
and we are still here
smoldering in the
cast iron
waiting for the
metal to
snap.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 8:01 PM UTC
I don't **** my captors
No Swedish syndromes
Nor those meatballs
From hell or IKEA.
You can keep your pallid shine.
You can keep your caucasus wine.
My body is a temple trash can
But you're too rank to fit.
You talk of culture
of progress of depth
the only depth I've seen from
y'all is the capacity of
the frying pan
in which you tossed us
in the very spices we grew.
Refining the heat
until the blister is a
marketing point
an authentic char
while the moon sits
in the sky like a
cold unseasoned
wafer of reflected light
and we are still here
smoldering in the
cast iron
waiting for the
metal to
snap.
