in other words

the price of your freedom?

its hunger, a scratchy throat, stories, pacing the kitchen at 4 am

in other words, freedom is the only thing you got,

when you got no one left

naivete

this beer, my favorite beer,

tastes like ox sweat–fuck.  i just realized

i dont have a clue what the game is

im just following the rules

for you

i would kill every mosquito in this room

and tattoo my lips with the blood

i listen to the silence

nothing lasts, not mosquitos sucking the blood from the tip of the skin,

not icebergs erupting into fire and mountains

everything changes from red to green and back again.

from heaven to this humus body

what does that mean now?  spring has come and my brown body erupts into gunfights and golden nuggets thrown at sling shots

we talk about the revolution like seeing a double rainbow on a dry day

a red rose, a white jasmine, a black kiss

talk about it like migrants talk about night, black spray paint to hide the bruises

self destructive, running into the middle of soldiers and tanks with flip flops and beer

listen to the wind and then run the opposite way

kick, fall and get up again

refuse the poison they feed the suburbs and ghettos, kids growing bold before their time

listen to the silence of mosquitos and spring

belonging

i want this to be, yes

i want this to be space and hunger, fuck and forgiveness

and i want this to be stronger than death

but my skin constantly peels away

and i am left like an apostrophe without a possession to my name

tell me what is so confusing about a necklace of jasmine and red carnation

a pink barrette tangled in dreadlocks

a yellow tube of raisin lip gloss

the traces of mosquito blood on a dirty palm?

we had to destroy the village to save it

we had to destroy the village to save it

save us.  the guns hit the jaw and we all fell down.

nothing soaked in blood and saltwater, nothing breathing in the wind, nothing living under the trees

the babies are dust and we are the original sin