No Morals

This box holds all of my hopes and dreams captive

Starving for Los Angeles police brutality

And Mike Tyson’s teeth

This box encourages me to leave to people at their weakest point

Avoid affection from a slender touch

Castrate my eunuch formalities of lust and passion

Due to my misunderstand of how to use them and still be who I am

This box elongates its sides, polishes its exterior, and adds handles to its sides

To become a rectangular casket for my relationships

And my dedication in a life filled with the joy of others

Send me off to your nearest mortuary

Have people gaze on me in times of bereavement

And I, like them, will hope similarly

That this box can savor a piece of what once was.