things yr gonna do

start a workshop series

host movie night

host writing group

host salons

host art hours

make an installation show

write a script

make a zine

publish an essay

release an album

tour a show

write a biography

let me be a better sister
let me not in my sickness linger
let me carve paths through the suffer
let me see
where i dropped me
and pick back up my sister

if we can't now then how

when you break the thing you were trying to carry.
your fingers aren’t fast enough to clear up thinking flurries.
your words are the turds that you scrape from your belly.
you silenced the sole sound that wanted to be many

look and say look and know
it’s so hard to write within this flow
(every word corrected into a typo
every gorgeous creature stifled into camo)

this isn’t the way this isn’t the time
let yr own hand say this line
let yr own mind be its own scribe
consider how the pen will choose the usefulness of mime

stop this nonsense
i’m sorry for my shit
i’m sorry for my selfishness and ache and spin and spit
i haven’t found a way to speak this stuff i’m carrying all the time
it should and jives and jerks and buckles and flails behind a rhyme