Decolonialish Self-Portrait

I remember myself;
—a chair, turning—
a desperate blue tunnel
crossing the mirror
in the lavender hour.
I remember myself;
a corner of sunlight
on the bed sheet rotating
a violence, words that die
before meaning:
relentless shredded threads.
I remember myself;
sky chained to torture,
futurity chokes:
an ancient throat melts
in my posing.
I remember myself;
a swipe in the dust
on my dresser, a drawer full 
of rotten Christian teeth.