Diploma Poem by Samantha Bolden

Words are hard to find
Especially if you flush
Them down the Golden Toilet
Rat poets are in the sewers

I hang my words on the cloth line
And if they are at last dry
They're ain't useful anymore
In all my stuff
All words are lost

The papers dissolve to dust
Journalism-RIP
I can't believe what I believe
Who cares at all
If you're lying dead on the street

The nerves of my sight checkmate me
I look to look that I look
All impressions are neatly filed away
My cerebellum is an insurgent
Against the corset of the citizens

Am I a citizen at all?
I'm a neuter
No novelty far and near
I burn my last gown
My body clothes itself with skin

Black spheres decapitate my dreams
If I ever had any
All rots in dark, infutile crumb
Look, what's this?
Aren't these the bone horses?

Cats scratch Morse signals
The Barb of night catches on them
Don't even bother
No one appreciates me
A woolly hat would be appropriate

Soft shoes are growing on trees
But I cannot climb
Barefoot I'm going to step on shards
And dissolve myself
To become sulphuric acid