this is the turning point

an empty plate

September 9, 2019


when did you forget me?
my mind – encapsulated with memories
with memories i cannot escape
and doors i can no longer enter.
i only have but one dream,
one desire which haunts the side of my bedroom closet.
so the women and the man,
the ones who take total ownership over this body,
they do not rest.
the air is thicker in geneva,
a little fatter,
a little more beautiful
a little less me,
and a little more envy.
these are the vineyards which wrap my body.
twisted tongues,
the sinner and the saint.
i am neither but both in this story.
to the foreigner's god: i am waiting
for nothing and everything.
for teachers and students
who loathe the bitter taste of my name.
for my grandfather to call me back.
but like most things – they never happen.
this letter is representation of that.
like the women who will never hold me,
remind me again, who i am.


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  • September 9, 2019 - 6:11am (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Anha

    snap snap snap hell yeah jengelbells

    about 1 year ago