(elegies from a black, only child). 


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.

along the way, someone lost empathy?  along the way, someone forgave the wrong thing?

suffering, never suffering. 

never, wanna leave, never wanna leave. 

angry, little beast why would you cry, do you not know the sun knows your every concern? 

just a few things to note, a few things to taste in every corner of the mouth. 

something so sweet, about feeling, let’s feel something, when everything is fleeting.

how many fantasies do you have?  

but what is this sour taste, what is behind it? 

tisha’s son. all rights reserved. 2021.