For a long time i didn’t have the space to be myself
Self determination (inside the house and the safe space of my personal bubble) was far from my reality
Only something that i could taste during my dreams
Or half experience through my writing
Someone was sitting on my chest without my consent
restricting my airflow
the only oxygen left went to sustain vital functions
The freedom of self expression
Validation
all buried, asphyxiated under the weight of authority
Not even my mind was a liberated place
The politics of the household became the politics of my head
Cornered in my own mind
the politics of my place of residence became the hymn I’d sing everyday at 6 p.m.
The hymn became a melody stuck in my head
and the melody transformed into a ritual to call upon certainty
I embodied a parrot and a pigeon
Clueless as to what to do, think, breathe
outside the realm of authority
I became my own police
my own prison
the politics of the household posed as inheritance
frightened me
paralyzed me
in their presence i couldn’t breathe
in their absence i replicated their core
chaos ensued
I who must not live amongst chaos
I who must
I who should
I forgot that only die I must
The politics of the household have a self-defense system in place
When I try to shake them off
They sink their claws deeper into the ridges of my mind
It hurts
Yet chaos feels worse
I who must not live amongst chaos
I who must
I who should
I follow the command of the authority
We merged
Today
I who wants
I who needs
I who desires
I trust belligerence
To exterminate the politics of the household
I must die
Only in death is freedom found
I will not be police nor prison
There is space for all of us in my casquet
I will lie underground
The politics of the household will be food for the maggots
I who wants
I who needs
Sovereign
I will rise