By Zavier Davis
Under the many rocks and boulders,
tainted with years
of blue and purple elemental abuse,
there I lay with a clean slate
resting as my torso.
Open to metal nails and hammers, ready for the cuneiform
depicting my fate
of nocturnal nights,
addictions to footnotes,
words and the other.
Puncturing in the purple scars
adorned on my body that
swell from creamy pus.
My thoughts ready to pop
from its secured interior,
destined to inhabit
the many halls of memory.
Stand me up against the Old Testaments.
I become sacred word,
repeated into the air,
living among gods and clouds,
becoming immortal through
Titles and By: lines.
Share me with the world,
for I am the tablet hidden in your basement,
choking on black dust
but growing as the myth
that will carry on
for lifetimes.
Brandy Sanamo
Brady Sanamo