*reader discretion advised*
there is no goddamn hare; no tortoises are here.
i am the fable, from the years before i stretch.
i teach while i am learning, my organs eat themselves
while i try to teach you to eat your young, don’t make
any more. hold the ones you have, grow ribcages
around them and slice open their numb weaknesses.
surgery, slick surgery. my god we just keep going.
turn my fingers into keyholes, bury what you want
in me, unlock. i am undone; i’ll do you, honey. bit
that, bitter backboned queen of the blow-jobs, half
baked bitch who knows her way around a man. funny.
isn’t it? funny how i spit, how i hate, choking grade-
school nigger-lover dyke in the dirt and yes, i loved that
girl and she is not white. hitch-hiking fat-ass letting
sweating men. i would let blood, today, i have grown.
evolved. my god the girl still remembers but i don’t
give a fuck, you can’t take the fuck from me. i fuck.
i will fuck. the finish line is what i make it and i’ll drip
come or blood in a line and you’ll know when you step
on my toes if i’m going to win or you’re going to lose.
i top unless you strike me down and i shake like the
earth when a tree falls. we are talking about tall tales
and i’m not as wide as i am long but you get me, right?
you’re laughing at me pouring spit into lines, snorting
fallopian tubes like time bombs, dissatisfied and decaying.
i wasn’t meant for this like you weren’t meant for what
ever you want to be not meant for. god, i can’t tell you.