Dedication’s pressing his twenties, had his smile contentious.

Somewhere between portraits, pokies and payslips

he’s hit the minor-jackpot-black-privilege.
That’s the-kettle-calling-the-pot-black-scholarship,

that’s front-page-university-magazine that’s naidoc-week.

All-teeth no-sleep still-black-coffee.
Three-chapters-deep, lofi-on-repeat,

thesis won’t break me, no time for poetry,

don’t panic, it’s pay week. Too many

‘you ain’t been yourself’s lately,

no wonder – that assessment’s due bra. 
Pressures pressing his twenties, or more a fear of pressure.

Fears a deeper cession lies due in his expression,

of outlandish-landless-semantics, that king’s english.

Fears he’s fucking up his existence,

Overly-devotedly-anxious-existential-shit.
Depression pressing his twenties, fears he’ll lose himself.

Fears of losing a mother to his unrest, devotedly

cradles her, unsettled-complexion painting him a

smiling-half-naked-half-caste-question-mark. 
Fears losing another brother to an entendre,

some-antics always test their patience.

So he wanders, he wonders and ponders,

resting his sentences, more comprehensive. 
He’s learning to keep his heart vacant, he’s learning patience.

Learning that self-deprecating, 25-to-life-type-dedication.
A ventriloquising-third-person fulla.

An overly-devoted-traditional-custodian fulla.

Antiheroic-environmentalist fulla.

A not-like-the-rest fulla.