Published Works

"???s" (The New 009)

Hello?

Is anyone out there?

How are you?

Can anyone hear me?

What have you been up to?

How come we don’t laugh like we used to?


Are you still thinking about me?

As much as I think about you?

Where has all the time gone?


How much do we have left?


Where’s the smell of your heartbeat?

And the sound of your breath?


Where are we?

Who am I?

Have you seen through the abyss?

And to the other side?


Any questions?

Yeah, I got a few.



"The Pain of Privilege" w/ Eric Ford (The New, 008)

Who’s this? What is it they’re doing?


“Hey! You!” I wave my arm to get their attention.


Nothing.


I scratch the tattoo on my forearm and continue observing this figure.


Where they are, it wreaks. The smell of fire and the sound of screams. The figure is moving feverishly, on its knees pleading to a deep sea. His hands are held in prayer, but I can see the poison in his palm.


“HEY!”

Nothing.


“HEY YOU!”


I lean in closer, take a large breath, and throw my weight into my scream.


“HEY YOU! WHAT AR-”


I open my eyes to a ghastly sight. Inches from mine are a pair of blue eyes, the whites of which are laced by thick, red veins like the roots of a tree. Or the rigid branches of those trees that jut upwards into the sky. His stare is locked on me. When I went to push him away from me, he read my attack and countered, locking us in a stalemate. I throw his hands off of me. We rush each other simultaneously. In the rush, I raise my fist. And he raises his.


Wait--there’s a tattoo on his forearm. The same one as mine! I stand still and brace myself, but no strike ever lands on me. Looking at the figure, I drop my fist; he drops his.


Is that me?


The mirror cracks.


What a fragile thing.



For too long, white America has refused to look at its own reflection. Because to peer into the past means to see into the future, and while the visions of the past are dark, the future will be even darker. However, if one aims to combat the darkness, they must not shy away from the realities of the past. Instead, they must seek to understand them so that they may serve as a reminder for change.


History can only be written, not erased, and the concept of race demands an understanding of history. Race has been used to muffle the voices of minorities, to keep black people in a perpetual state of subjugation, and to certify white dominance to fuel oppression. Racism is the derivative of privilege and power, and the racist foundation that has been cultivated in America has given every white person that privilege, and that power.


So, what should white people do? They must shift their fundamental perspective of the system. All white people are complicit in this system, since the day they were born. This does not mean the majority of white people go around yelling racist explitives, but it does mean the system enables them to do so. The process of fighting against the system requires a long, hard, look in the mirror. Seeing what was will help the shaping of what is, and the world will be better off for it.



"Quiet Passenger" (The New, 008)

Oh, if only you knew

The thoughts that move through

My head.


How unfair it would be

For me

to let you see

the thoughts that move through

my head.


Not everything thought needs to be said,

Your secrets will end when you’re dead.


How useless it’d be

To exhume with a breath,

The things that I plan

On keeping for death.


And If I tell you, my friend,

I beg you: what then?


A shrug,


Some judgement,


We move on in our conversation.


Some things that I’ve said

Just a waste of my breath

And a tentative space in your head



Not everything thought needs to be said.

Trust there’s an edge in playing the dead.