I’ve never felt this much,
I begin again
to enter my body
to finish the story,
the fugue now over
and not slated to start again.
the mania quelled to a dull
buzz when I drink my morning
coffee but never more and the
deluded percussion storm
fading.
I spent years wandering
capes and cliffs and caverns
and never setting foot on
any ground nearby.
if you asked me where I was,
stopped me on a street corner,
I would blink my big owl
eyes as if I just woke up,
not be able to answer fast enough,
you’d be alarmed to find out
I’m local.
you can live anywhere
as long as its not in your body.
even Philadelphia, even
Kensington, the first neighborhood
I arrived to.
I tattooed her name
on my arm to never
forget where I came from;
the city that  unsheathed
me to beat me with it’s
black ice and corners.
she turns to me again and
says, I implore you,
for me, do you like
warnings or do
you like to drown?

and feeling myself a
smirking fox,
traipse the town in
pink chiffon, I spit on the
floor and I say:
I don’t know
why don’t you just
fucking surprise
me?

 

 

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