(elegies from a black, only child). 

for this is a song of constant remorse for me - error, sin and guilt combined. 

learning, how much time I allot, to being lost but never knowing, if being found is sweet - or if sweet is even what matters at this point.


needless to say, I am the product of many sins, so my wrongs echo further than my back, neck and eyes can feel or see - yet this guilt is contemporary and has deep affection for me. 

needless, to say,  I am the child of one thousand - two hundred and twenty six wombs, maybe. 

am, I moving through strength of a headless sacrifice, or leaning on the will of a chaotic sinner’s last plea.

tisha’s son. all rights reserved. 2018.