JW Bella
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.
