[artist unknown]


wind in the downs

oracles loving the false gods and

dancing in the dark

cubic zirconia worlds like the movies

with the dancers, the inching gold

at the wrists

writhing cushions and fake silk limbs

breathing artificial meaning into constructed,

fickle lives littered with the beats of stolen drums

O, what I saw beneath the masks was

emptiness and selfish

weak apologies and worn hugs,

an object lack of care and

pontification of love for everyone

while walling themselves behind white exclusivity and

cliques of brooklyintes who think dressing up like Bedouins is completely okay

wearing kimonos unironically,

I remember trading night for day,

crying about my own anger over a white man in a rice paddy hat

sick from the lack of sleep and understanding of cultural theives I tried to call friend

guilt crusted my lashes in the mornings

and the sparkle of the world fell away

I was losing a place I thought could be a home,

somewhere safe in the hypnotic sounds, it became the abyss

and swallowed the things I loved: a girl, my scarf from peru, and

some likely crucial brain cells

I buried them there

and walked the sea,

found the blue, the blue, the blue,

and forced it

from my mind.



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