The metal door slamming shut
behind me
makes my insides sink
to the bottom of my feet
to the bottom of these
cheap sneakers
to the cold concrete floor
to the basement of this place
to the soil, to the bedrock
to the middle of the earth
and I bury myself
way more than six feet deep
This cell is a tomb
I left my notebook up there
I left my pencil up there
Down here in the dungeon
of my mind
I write anyway
I draw anyway
The pen and pencil
are my thoughts and memories
The paper is my soul
and Imani’s voice echoes and
bounces off the bedrock
lingers in the heat
repeatingrepeating
MISTAKES & MISGIVINGS
MISTAKES & MISGIVINGS
MISTAKES & MISGIVINGS