he tint-less women here

Mind my pockets — task me

For my thick hide & tight cunt;

Praise my gauze-trapped orgasms;

Envy me the herd of men

Who climb up out of me;

Crawl into the beds of my boys &

Sickle my sons with their thirst;

Scrape me of my contour &

Throw what’s left of my body

Into their mirrors; stitch my name

Into the roofs of their mouths

So they too can #drippp

Authentic power; praise me

For my discounts on IG

But disbelieve

My lack of security; I’m lit

Oil in they pipes — a nova

Out of fashion with the times.

They don’t love me as much

As they love the way I am

When I am smoked &

Ghost-drawn; I is

They idol until neon

Stenciled skies hollow me

Like the gun clips

Of hook-handed fellows

Who hollowed me & holla my name

Under disco-chipped stars

With the same glow

As my vintage angles &

Savage pose — I’m sick

With the light

Trapped inside of me

When they aside me; I am the closest

They’ve ever come to Gawd

In the flesh & yet they still

Have the nerve to take them fresh

“Brazilian” waxes to the center

Of South Shore, where they will

Swipe right

Until around what time

Do you want to hook up;

Cast themselves in shades

Of bronze for bags & bills

Already paid — which, true,

Wouldn’t be that bad

If only they didn’t:

Jerk their necks like me, snap

Their fingers like me, squat pop

Over piles of money

In the shape of a TV producer

Who just happens to know

The true value of false b/ l/ a/ c/ k pain;

Shadow dip themselves

In my hustle & use my Gawd-

Given name in vain.