I was put together seven times.
in different shapes, sometimes square.
Once my head was on on upside down
(it explains so much).
In another, my hands were where
my feet ought to be and
my spine was bent like a racetrack.
Seven times I was assembled.
Seven wrong machinations.
But it only takes seven.
and then it’s done.
This is the last.
This is the coming.
This is rapegia.

Different Trains

Look up.
There’s a city island in a couverture of clouds.
Look around.
I see ads of vodka, luxury condos and starving Africans.
Look in the mirror.
I’m not sorry I called you a bitch because that’s how you were behaving.
Look inwards.
Every dream is a heartache; yours is no different.
Look closer.
Let’s blow up our bodies and float together.


It was like a dream.
The sun and ceiling fans,
rotating steadily in the tall white rafters.
I can feel the sweat from the sea
that coated our skin and our souls,
the music that carried us
away from of our lives,
molding us into takers
of emptiness and anger.