I have gone astray,
thinking,
rambling
in an esoteric phrase,
lying to the government
about a loaded gun
between my legs.
The queen
holding a lamp
above her crown
wants to see,
take my bullets away,
conjuring methods
to castrate a rebel.
Here I am.
A righteous devil,
cursing
in the face of God,
as the execution squad
slays another Tupac
for writing,
living,
American poetry.
Thabit Walls is a bay area poet who is currently attending a doctoral program in clinical psychology. He finds poetry in every moment. The gloomy and bright days all provided poetry.
spider up her thigh in the dimly lit room
held down, stared down
embers of the abyss snap around her
My father sexually abused me.
When I got married,
I hyphenated my name.
No one questioned it at the time.
But in the middle of my parents’ late divorce,
everyone wants to know about names.
Nietzsche warned us not to look
long into the abyss, or it will look long
into us.
It was finally
his home until
abruptly
his mind flashed
all the times he had entered a
boy
i was depressed,
and i wanted
to take a
walk;
you said you'd join me—
didn't mean i wanted
netflix and chill,
it happened before words came
to tell me how to feel about it
newly connected neurons torn apart
or perverted—
forever firing blanks into the microbiological air
As a child
The lessons taught
Can bring a pain never thought.
The lessons on trust
And heartache
Sear the soul.