Am I theSerpentSlowly driftingBetween the legsOf unwittingFoolsVenom drippingDown my lipsNumbNever havingSunk these fangsInto anything butMy ownCheeksStop talkingParalyzedAm I theReptileWho mistookMy legs forImaginary wingsFigments ofMy mindWith no clue thatI am notBrokenJust forgetfulJust forgetfulForgetfulCannot forgetCannot lieTalented at ignoringMy own transparencyFingers splayedIn the wind...

I speakBut I haveNo tongueIt has been tornRipped from meAs a lace is pulledFrom a shoeI was tongue tiedA pretty bowI could walkBut no moreI stumbleAnd stutterAs one could stutterWith a smileOn my faceGleaming teethLike garnetsToo little too lateSmileHelloLips stretchedOver clenched bonePearls dyedPrettyWords flowLike ink down my chinBut onlyI know theLanguageMy neck is the canvasJackson Polloc...

My twenty twenty was a process, which consisted of six stages: One: Optimism Accompanied by the Void -2020 felt new, fresh and ripe with opportunities. Knowing that my "sweet sixteen" would take place later this year, a sign that new beginnings were meant to be. However, I was a hollow shell: wanting nothing but to run away, even though I didn't know what I was running from. There was a constan...