Their eyes ask more than their words everytime they question, “why don’t you drink?” I’m just real tradish, too Indigenous, is what I’d like to think but really I’m scared to like it too much stumble into the night where sisters go missing and if we’re speaking statistics I match the characteristics of someone less likely to be found my brown face drowned in a sea of others the police are supposed to be out…
Sticky rings scattered across the surface of the table remnants of a night had by many time and time again aimless small talk quiet questions escalate to angry answers frustration into fury slurred words and loud voices stumbled steps unchosen choices spill our drinks like we spill our misery mix mine with yours tangled trauma unwrap the cords to find we’re all connected not in the way we break but in the way we don’t…
Gangster boy we followed different tracks but really, I just fell through the cracks of this system we can’t seem to beat I see through that bandana a bottle in one hand mace in the other stepping out of sync like you don’t belong and it’s true, this reserve was never meant for you and me our generation was never supposed to be according to policies to keep this land so glorious and free you…