Alexandria Graffiti · Poetry
Poetry
Every piece, regardless of genre, argues that precision of language is a form of liberation.
These are not decorative poems. They are not ambient. They carry weight, make arguments, and arrive at conclusions most writing politely avoids. Read them at the right speed.
Who Told You
The map of every woman who ever ran toward a promise of water and found it was gasoline. A reckoning with inherited harm, learned predation, and the moment of seeing clearly.
Because someone told them / that if they don't get what they want / they get to piss over your dreams…
ReadThe Kaleidoscope Unravels
On the death of a living language tradition. When legibility replaces depth. When the mouth opens and only information falls out. A grief most people feel and almost no one can name.
The light remembers what the glass no longer can. / Something in the turning has gone slack—
ReadLayers
A self-portrait that refuses the single frame. What it costs to be multiple, to be seen only in pieces, to carry more than any one room can hold at once.
ReadWitness
The shortened version of Who Told You — everything compressed, everything aimed. Ends on a single word. The word that earns the whole poem.
ends on: Witness.
ReadLanguage has always been the oldest technology. These poems use it carefully — not to describe feeling, but to enact it. Not to explain grief, but to demonstrate its architecture. Not to tell you what to think, but to put you inside the place where thinking becomes necessary.
The precision is not coldness. It is the opposite of coldness. It is the refusal to let important things be said carelessly.
Alexandria Graffiti · alexandriagraffiti.com