NIA HAMPTON
Image by Daniel Uncapher
Read My Suicide Note in Drakes Voice Plz
Occasionally,
I dabble in
nihilism
Afro-pessimism
Professional fetal position sitter-ism
But it only made the void more sparkly.
I ask myself, "do I really want to die?"
And if so,
Why am I going about it
In such a lame way?
Some of my peers are living
Getting crazy likes on the gram
Getting married (and fat)
Having babies and shit
Some of my peers are dying
Getting crazy high
Going viral for having nervous breakdowns (and being poor)
Aging all unsavory like and shit
Then there’s me-
I only like to do drugs in a celebratory manner
Or at chicy healing spaces
As Brazilian beach waves lick at my ankles
cuddled on soft pastel blankets
telling what the earth told us
What visions we saw in our vomit
Wiped the sides of our mouths
ate watermelon and goiaba fruit
Shit was luxurious, you hear me?
I only want to leave this place in an interesting way now.
Suicide ideation like fall leaves on my front lawn
I sweep the flirtatious thoughts
Into a pile
I’ll jump into them later
Only if I’m bored.
Only if my tinder hook up cancels on me
Besides I think I want a yacht
That way if I gotta escape a high tide
Sometime soon (I probably will)
I can float away on these haters
My durag flapping in the wind.
I dabble in
nihilism
Afro-pessimism
Professional fetal position sitter-ism
But it only made the void more sparkly.
I ask myself, "do I really want to die?"
And if so,
Why am I going about it
In such a lame way?
Some of my peers are living
Getting crazy likes on the gram
Getting married (and fat)
Having babies and shit
Some of my peers are dying
Getting crazy high
Going viral for having nervous breakdowns (and being poor)
Aging all unsavory like and shit
Then there’s me-
I only like to do drugs in a celebratory manner
Or at chicy healing spaces
As Brazilian beach waves lick at my ankles
cuddled on soft pastel blankets
telling what the earth told us
What visions we saw in our vomit
Wiped the sides of our mouths
ate watermelon and goiaba fruit
Shit was luxurious, you hear me?
I only want to leave this place in an interesting way now.
Suicide ideation like fall leaves on my front lawn
I sweep the flirtatious thoughts
Into a pile
I’ll jump into them later
Only if I’m bored.
Only if my tinder hook up cancels on me
Besides I think I want a yacht
That way if I gotta escape a high tide
Sometime soon (I probably will)
I can float away on these haters
My durag flapping in the wind.
That Anti Blackness in LA Is Something Special
dedicated to Steve Lacey
dedicated to Steve Lacey
Before I knew the warmth of
black booty
I too, was afraid Steve.
It would take years for me to
kiss a girl of my same hue.
But once I did
I almost drowned in her.
Been swimming in
black women since.
Sure, looks ain't enough
to hit it with another black man
and you say you wish them well
But spill Tea sis,
How can the sweat dripping down
his clavicle as he dribbles that ball
between his taunt thighs
(in grey sweatpants nonetheless)
not make you feel anything?
Like-how don't you get a little
excited when you see Tupac
perfectly full lashes
the gold of his nose ring.
How it compliments that depth of his dark?
Do you sleep with the lights on?
I get that growing up
they were all competitors-
but like someone being better than you ain't even a little bit sexy??
A challenge doesn't water your mouth?
You must not like eating crabs then.
How you not into full lips
And gravity defying curl patterns
the way black men hold you just right
hold you like you precious
like they could drink you in a swallow
what about how they
stare at you too long
when they wanna fuck
and your heart skips a beat.
You probably don't ride rollercoasters huh Steve.
I get it.
Whiteness is
shiny and hard to kill
like roaches covered in vaseline
and anti blackness
is omnipresent
inescapable
all up in the hydrogen atoms
pressed into the placenta
at this point
(especially in LA.)
But I wish you close encounters
with loving black men.
And maybe they'll be
fancy black at first
a black British man dem
or even a Panamanian papi
He'll get inside you
slowly and sweetly
in ways Chad
only wished he could
And maybe after enough
encounters
you'll slide into loving black men
from New York
who fuck you with their timbs on
Or niggas from Houston
golds in they mouth gleamin’
as they take all of you
until you find that you have
a taste for men from Compton.
until you find
that you're that much more
in love with yourself.
I wish that for you, Steve. I really do.
black booty
I too, was afraid Steve.
It would take years for me to
kiss a girl of my same hue.
But once I did
I almost drowned in her.
Been swimming in
black women since.
Sure, looks ain't enough
to hit it with another black man
and you say you wish them well
But spill Tea sis,
How can the sweat dripping down
his clavicle as he dribbles that ball
between his taunt thighs
(in grey sweatpants nonetheless)
not make you feel anything?
Like-how don't you get a little
excited when you see Tupac
perfectly full lashes
the gold of his nose ring.
How it compliments that depth of his dark?
Do you sleep with the lights on?
I get that growing up
they were all competitors-
but like someone being better than you ain't even a little bit sexy??
A challenge doesn't water your mouth?
You must not like eating crabs then.
How you not into full lips
And gravity defying curl patterns
the way black men hold you just right
hold you like you precious
like they could drink you in a swallow
what about how they
stare at you too long
when they wanna fuck
and your heart skips a beat.
You probably don't ride rollercoasters huh Steve.
I get it.
Whiteness is
shiny and hard to kill
like roaches covered in vaseline
and anti blackness
is omnipresent
inescapable
all up in the hydrogen atoms
pressed into the placenta
at this point
(especially in LA.)
But I wish you close encounters
with loving black men.
And maybe they'll be
fancy black at first
a black British man dem
or even a Panamanian papi
He'll get inside you
slowly and sweetly
in ways Chad
only wished he could
And maybe after enough
encounters
you'll slide into loving black men
from New York
who fuck you with their timbs on
Or niggas from Houston
golds in they mouth gleamin’
as they take all of you
until you find that you have
a taste for men from Compton.
until you find
that you're that much more
in love with yourself.
I wish that for you, Steve. I really do.
NIA HAMPTON is a writer/artist who ran away to Salvador, Bahia Brazil only to realize anti-blackness is not only global but internalized. Now she is back home battling nihilism in Baltimore City through art, tears, friendship and music. She is preparing for her first gallery showing of her photography and video work. You can find her on instagram @_NIAnderthal and at her website, niahampton.com