Seems like everyone’s picking up a mic these days,
on my left, Sanova’s sitting at play
spewing words, mixed up thoughts,
triggered screams, who’s at fault
spotlight back, watch my back,
‘Cause I’lll die when, yes I’ll die when
when I let go.

---

You left one morning, ribcage broken and
I don’t care to reminisce
the image of your fists balled up when you swung at me.
Or even…even the night when she was kneeling,
I only heard ’cause if witnessed, I would have
seized you by the throat, deprive you of the air
they bestowed upon your beastly
self.

And all you want, I think all you want is
to let go.

My voice fades among the echoes of their fears
but I won’t let myself extract from you
the pride that sets us up for a loss.
No.
My hand is shaking but no mic is in its grasp,
to my right, who’s on my right?
Take over Nova, spotlight back.