7a.m.

7am

i am writing poems

on the things she hates about me

walking barefoot on frosty grass

scalding skin on privilege and

washing off that dream

7am

i am chain smoking my dread

contemplating a throat wound

stepping in dog shit and

drugging the voices

7am

i am thinking of her bloody lip

this molested earth,

cat roadkill and

corporal punishment

of self

7am

i am turning keys

making excuses

sinking

mouth deep now

blinking slowly

lowly

lowly

7am

i am alive