I finally Understand what Drake is Talking about & It’s depressing as Fuck
What shall i do with this body they gave me
This ceaseless operation
Its cloudlike state
presentto wonder
the apocalyptic self-image
I want crystallized affections
conceded as pious solace
Where is ur effort
I mean wtf do u want from a nigga
A seeded emptiness growing away from ceaseless war
I want to sin
against
The
Purity
I’ve authored
Bliss hovering over the void
A haptic fallout
Feverish blood
A sensation free of depth
A party in a room i can’t quite remember
Otherworldly paradise
Making heaven my home
It’s hard against the tongue
Everything dissolving
And
I never fucking learn my lesson
The new american girl doll is no longer a slave
The image of blackness is the violence of whiteness
I wanted to think about the body becoming akind of food for the street
Reduce the living body
To be saturated in an unforgiving sunlight
Tender was the saturation
Try to be less afraid
Let’s become something else
Be kind
Be thoughtful
Be agreeable
It is important to be likeable
To be kind
Make no effort to be nice
Destroy the context that see u as volatile
Fragment with sticky edges rotating in wet dark spaces
Drink ur raw milk
Bby drink it up
The Benediction of the Lamb
for anne boyer
Crying to lil uzi in the uber
Jerk dry pussy
Everything swollen and rotting in itself
I have cum on my dress
O woe
O woweeee
The dream recovers itself from the amnesia of its sorrow
Freeze frame the moment
It was not an image but a way of conveying information
Growing slow. Tolerant and sad this becomes my art.
Free of this burdensome guilt
I was stoned most of the time on weed or xanaxinconsolable.
We were always fucking. a mixed state of anger and wanting stuff.
The plants always wilting—trying to make life easy again automatic—
I am weary too weary to make life with u.
No escape from this dream
Milky sunsets
aprismatic shard of letting go
The world is no place for lambs
I was afraid of nothing
I was a lamb with no shepherd
_ no fangs
It is dark
Something happens in the room
This becomes the grave
Notes from the glass coffin
—Have u seen my heart
—Sharp and defensive
—Approximate a new utopia
—Have you seen my death rattle
—Have u seen something black
—Structures crumbling in an early death
/ movement slowing / testing the air / no ownership / its coruscations/ blades and jags/
Language fails me once and for all
language doesn’t change much
In the dream
a toy poodle sitting by the water he is alone
He seems to be crying
In the dream
She keeps repeating herself. She walking in the streets alone talking to herself the language never changes. Thegirl is creating a new tongue she is mutating. The lamb swallows .
u ask where i am going with this grief – i stuff it in my pussy_fleshly long lips_ knowing all u can
know u don’t ask me more questions . The lamb walks alone learning to love the lamb body the broken hooves _The twisted black coat.
No what i meant to say was i can’t.
I have to become everything_ The lamb sharpens her knife
Don’t you understand anything? ]
It is the lamb who tells the story of itself as a lamb / this is a hollowed life
Who’s not gay fight me right now
Poems selected by Sophie Robinson, our virtual poet in residence for the October / November Issue of The Believer.
