We fell asleep crying.
WHAT DO I DO WITH RAGE WHAT DO I DO WITH RAGE WHAT DO I DO WITH RAGE
they put knives to our throats and shout
we’re helping we’re helping
the cigarette quivers in my hand.
i don’t even smoke, really.
i tried to draw billie in charcoal and ended up smudging her in ash.
the invisible ears of ghosts are the only ones that hear
black voices careening into
nothing is urgent enough
i’ve stopped trying to find the words.