Cotton Xenomorph is a new literary journal produced with the mission to showcase new, and ecstatic art while reducing language of oppression in our community. We are dedicated to uplifting new and established voices while engaging in thoughtful conversation around social justice.

Who Will Stop Me From Dying

by Prince Bush

Everyone I love lives
long enough to be diabetic.

Glaucoma; cataracts; refraining
from fresh-salty-breaded smells

like pretzels, pizza, pasta; pots of
precisely excised, disappointing

meals; are all the moments
waiting for me, if I live. Even so,

how will I ingest the news, inject
myself, when I want to inject

myself—who will stop
me from dying from depression

so I can die diabetic.
Who will hold the right needle; who

will insulate me from myself
and make me take some insulin—

for my body, innocent, does
want it, my bruised

brain, innocent, doesn’t want it.
I do not want it. Depression

owns and does not want my body—
how can I be trusted, take my own

medicine, when death for so long
has been a sought medal and metric and

mode. How will I run from death like
everyone else. I’d need a hex

to care—curb carbs, sugar; eat fat
fishes, flax seeds, greek yogurt, greens

extra virgin olive oil, beans,
kale, fresh fruit, tofu, cottage cheese

eggs and chicken, plant-based proteins.
I will need a rhyming

spell. To refrain,
I need a rhyming spell.


Prince Bush is a poet in Nashville, TN. More publications can be found at pbush.com.

Ahavah Rabbah

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