21 and 21 and


i’m mostly a lover
but not just in bed
mysoulsweats my soul sweats red
n i’m only a poet/artist/fuckup
but mostly in my head
n i’m an a-dult,
that’s what everyone says
but it’s only on paper
cos i’ll never be there, yet

change and
change and
change and change
but never like a sunset
more like a teenager
the bed during sleep
all through the sheets
ha-ha, don’t you wish you were me?

i’m an artist n that’s all
and to my lovers
one day when I grow tall in the world
you’ll remember my name (like the first girl
you wanted to fuck
so bad that you lost your mental curl
and had to hurl
your brain into space each night like fuel
for a wet, wet fire)

when i finally grow tall on the earth
: i will, you’ll see :
i’ll still have been being birthed
and show everyone my words
MY words

: you’ll see, i know unwaveringly :
but it’s your call-

who’s a poet but me?

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