I found a dying man
He was laying on the ground
Blood streaming down his chest
Gasping desperately for air

He tried to dig out the knife from his chest
But it was plunged in too deep
He put his hands over his wounds
As if to stop the bleeding

He reached out his hand
And tried to touch me
It was a plea for help
He was asking me to save him

But I didn’t help him
I just stood there and watched him die
I didn’t help him at all
Because I am the one who stabbed him

pouring out paragraphs of poetry
reading until i stop absorbing
my confidence built on words
i worked to make this work
confident, optimistic, and brilliant
pursuing activities for pleasure
demanding a stronger tether
binding, finding my tribe
aligning, trying to vibe
my confident built on words
redefined all my hurt
made my hurt work for me
embrace the shadowy

I passed by fancy
Beach homes and dreamt of being
Some rich man's bedspread

we rise from the nests of our joined ashes
again and again - lovers and friends
wondering if change is possible
when change is all that we are -
bodies of re-creation
built to be rebuilt
in dusty increments

Remember whose bones
built your floorboards
before you lay a house
on their backs.

I've built on desire
My lungs to respire
The whole world entire
Till it goes down in fire

At times,
I find myself
tearing my fibers apart.
Picking out one neuron
from another,
and wrecking myself
from within.
To find,
the next morning,
I have been
built once more.
This time,
just differently.