#hereditary
My grandfather peels an
X-chromosome off his liquor bottle
skips it across the pool of my mother’s genes
until it reaches me
yellow cigarette stained walls
green ashtray carpet on his tongue
blue back room full of old guitars
black mechanic oil stained hands
sandpaper voice
watching Jaws 4
homeless woman on couch
feeds dog black coffee
brown belly dragging across tongue
Thanksgiving dinners
my brother plays “Purple Haze”
out of a reluctant amplifier
the old folks applaud
the colors are beginning to
fade
he
battling cancer his way
watching Jaws 4
dog now dead
homeless woman now
no longer homeless
back skin where left ear
used to be
old guitars pawned for
drugs
Purple Haze fades to
black as colors do
and they say
it skips a generation
and now when shades
of pink appear white
my tongue grows thick
smoke burns my nostrils
and
I can only think of
how terrible of a film
Jaws 4 is.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 9:57 PM UTC
Fold for life, unfold for death.
Conscience coming on strong.
What are your regrets?
These bones would be between my
fingers regardless.
All good fun in tow,
but now your ghost knows.
You had a show to live,
and yes you did.
I see my feet fall
within your prints.
All good to blame,
when I'm doing this.
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC
Our Synaesthesia is for free,
Music is the muse for me,
In my blood, you see,
Images imaginary,
Elvira Madigan wakes to see,
Mozart play Mozart lucidly,
Swooner songs sound so silly,
Old rockers croon so vividly,
Funny lyrics in my brain,
Sounding a little deranged,
(It is hereditary
In my family)
Yes, Synaesthesia is for free,
Smurfette's songs, so silly.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
strut your stuff, shut me out and then judge me
corrupted pathways of stuff meant to begrudge me
that anti-matter just doesn't matter
that catastrophic energy will soon surely shatter
i can't jump fast to be the last in line
heart pumps fast with the blast in mind
clock thumps past battles passed in time
blood clumps caste with a mass decline
strut your stuff, but hush it when you're near me
disrupted masters get mad but then fear me
the negative ions will be eaten alive
that's hazardous material where the beaten survive
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 6:33 PM UTC
ARE YOU THERE ELVIS? IT’S ME, MICHELLE
by Michelle Awad
My grandmother only
cries
in the face of death,
and even then,
it is shrouded in
laughter,
like her body is
rejecting
the notion.
I have come to
understand
that this
is hereditary.
Now.
An appointment card
arrives
in the mail for you,
she breaks down;
“Blue Christmas” plays
through the car stereo,
she breaks down;
she doesn’t sleep, she thinks
she can hear you
moaning and coughing
in the next room. Yesterday,
my aunt asked her
a question,
and she told her
she didn’t know,
to go ask
you.
I remember your hands,
as dandelion wishes, and
the smell of
lawn clippings,
and
a stack of
word search puzzle booklets
on your side table, but
I never catch myself
talking about you
in the present tense.
It's something
I deeply wish
was hereditary.
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 3:16 PM UTC
I prayed to the god I don't believe in again
Please, I said
Just stop me from needing a friend
Help me believe or at least pretend
That being alone was the better end
That what I did, I did for them
But I had hoped they would see
and maybe not let me leave
tell me I was important to the family
but in the end they packed my bags for me
asked me for my key
got new locks and hid the door
so I couldn't come back anymore
Dec 29, 2025
Dec 29, 2025 at 1:24 PM UTC
If I have no choice
but to rub off on you
Then maybe if we tried
the good parts might too
I suppose it all depends
on the parts we both choose
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 12:53 PM UTC