Bottoms Up

There’s no rocks at my bottom

They’re up in smoke

Or held as evidence

And these events set precedence

To my current residence

My bottoms a clean slate

A scratched up plate

I used in trying to relate

My fate to a blade

Because everything I touch

Is crushed

The moment it’s laid within my grasp

One-handed and blindfolded

I undid the clasp

On my pearls, cause

They clashed with my rags

But I still hold em

Let the stones roll in my palms

And reminisce of when

Your words resembled psalms

Until they fall

Slip through my fingers

Like my broken focus

Swore I had spikes drove through my hands

Til I heard the locusts