i suppress my appetite
popping gum with my teeth
I hated menthol as a kid
mechanic mint hurting my head,
violating my lungs
but now,
becoming my father,
my mother,
my legacy
i pull on nicotine to give myself energy
I’m not the person 10 year old me wanted to be
but i am safe;
only breathing liquid amphetamine
but,
i hope one day i get sick off this nicotine
i hope my body rejects the idea of what i think was eventually gonna happen to me
science doesn’t have to prove it,
i feel the changes in my body
the grit in the floor starts speaking:
“when did you stop being happy?”
“when did you stop writing poetry?”
so i hope the grit keeps talking:
“when did you want to become me?”















