I grew up differently from Veronica. She’s more street-wise; whereas I’m a suburban girl from South Carolina, but I do see parts of myself in Veronica – her spirit, her thirst for life, her loyalty to everyone around her. – Shanola Hampton
Vipers have taken over my veins and the hard thump of my heart has turned into a malicious whisper,
There’s too much venom in me, more than I can handle
It liquifies my flesh and spins around my mind,
That devilish tourniquet let’s all the bad thoughts in,
My syrupy spirit leaks away through constellation like puncture wounds, a great escape to the skies.
After the agony bolt like spasms strike me,
C'est rapide comme l'éclair!
won’t align with-
The bottoms of my feet are poison green now,
I lay in this serpentile brew,
I rot. I wonder. I pray.
They said it was normal,
this dilema in the mind,
No one can ever make the difference between the outstretched mind of a poet and the spirit that’s being eaten away by the birds of madness.
So we wait,
for the epiphany, for the breakdown.
I want to sanctify my lungs see?
Feast on the abundance of my own wishes-
there is something rich that happens when the bright sparkle of the want touches the grainy dark of what hides behind the light,
Once again, my dreams and all of my shadows have come to crumble on the back of one another, they have come to collide,
like meteors scratching atmospheric skin,
It only ever bleeds golden awe.
And me, I am forever oblivious to when I shall be struck.