Bussy Blues

haven’t eaten all day
so i can be the feast

be a thing empty & filled
a vase of stale water

& the next second, wet wreckage
i can make oblivion look like a rose

he tells me to look back at it
& i turn to salt

do tops know how much prep
goes into being ruled?

we hoe the good soil, raise the gate,
flood the city for this one lonely steed

how dare they not love us!
isn’t love to say i made room

in my body for your body?
all these brown boys mistake me

for their hands. white ones see
a receipt on my back.

niggas better recognize
i’m God.

my stomach rumbles
i eat a man in reverse.