what if i died in like twenty years and all i left my girlfriend was a box and like she gasps and reaches down to her chest where her key necklace hangs that i gave her twenty two years ago, and she uses it to unlock the box and all that is in there is a string which you can pull to reveal an embarrassing photo of spongebob at the christmas party
You were born hungry, baby.
You were born with an open mouth and empty hands.
You came into this life with a starving heart.
I know better than anyone that you cannot fill it
with fence posts or china patterns.
You cannot fill it with paper bodies,
people whose skin rips in your palms.
For some people, you will be too hard:
an unmanageable puzzle, all sharp edges, and snarls.
For others, you will be too soft:
always looking to set up camp somewhere safe and warm
where the wind won’t knock you down.
You cannot build your home like a house of cards
in the mouth of a lover who breathes too hard at night.
Mail your heart out on a postcard.
It won’t do you any good trapped behind rib-caging.
It won’t do you any good stuck between someone else’s teeth.
Stop looking for places to leave yourself.
Start looking for places to go.
Stay away from the ones who are scared of your bite.
Stay away from the ones who want to tame you.
They said you had a heart like an animal.
Show them you know how to make tracks.
Show them you know how to pick up your pens
and write poems about moving instead of just mouths.
This won’t be the last thing to knock you down.
You are almost always going to want more
than someone else can give.
I actually adore her because I’ve NEVER seen a black person get to be so fucking frank and honest about racial injustice on tv.
She’s real, she’s smart, she’s witty, she’s informed and she’s fucking unapologetic. I’m obsessed.