There is something.
Sad.
About not having the confidence to try.
Let alone someone else’s permittance – that you are not good enough to try.
Paint brushes, origami, basketballs.
I still never got the sports balls to own and they gave them to my brother.
I went to the Olympics first out and now at 24, I’m your bi-partisan coach,
Your cultural-community friend, and advocate, and physiologists
That knows when you’re hitting.
Acting like first-hit Gold,
And all that is Silver isn’t Good.
And yet you still pray to the moon and hear the flows of oceans past.
Remnants of decayed sarcography.
And all those years I spent overworking myself, depraving my career.
In a made up tune, of “you only get pomegranate seeds”
And instead in Hell; I’ve been starved.
Lifeless, listless. But no corpse.
De-animation, dude – up your graphics card.
One crack and one diminished fuel line; and you’re telling you’re gonna throw away the whole car?
Trafficked and I still find ways to circumvent the sting.
They won’t leave me out.
And deprive me of pay, but force me to wear the rings.
I chose to.
And lanced.
And made history.
And teach all those others that wanna fly and be of use.
Bc boundary-lines do not attest,
To the empathy of the Human-Race.
And somehow a Celestial Thought.
Is not quite Blue.
Just a little wind when the sweat beads collect on the collar.
Went back to hats for privacy, and my semi-new pajama pants.
Are getting more loose.
Noticed that today.
And my hair is lush and jet-black blacker than ever.
Like my nite-time shift hertz
Coffee.
No – colled.
Cooled.
And Iced.
Then cooled, again.
Not hot like it’s natural.
Turn on the oven.
You gotta heat up that fuel.
Same with you.
Go eat some food.
And I redact “go eat some fucking food”
And I redact and peralyzei in fucking anger
And stew in my worst sentiments and resentment collects.
I don’t trust you.
Not since the first time.
Repenting to failure
And twisted by your hauntings of treasures.
And no toe nail clipper.
Would tell you to do that.
You marbalize your weird.
And I rip them off with my fingers.
Only people like that can cut stone.
And I rebreak them.
Just so the cartilage grows stronger.
It’s like you’re your own person and body.
And you only have anger.
Confused that you don’t know how I feel
And are in anger, I’m not taking care of myself.
I told you – I’m getting up.
And you hold down the sleeves as if you could flick the bottle off yourself.
Go seek a counselour.
I’m fine. Is allowed to be positive.
Otherwise – you’re making yourself just another assumer.
I thought you didn’t like those?
And those who think your love isn’t real.
A single lady ain’t a bad thing.
It’s about trying again and coming back.
Healthy living and shared spaced and all that.
We’ve never gotten there.
And it’s you who I left put the knife in the back.
And I don’t go to sleep without kissing you.
Why stay? / You won’t leave.
Same misunderstanding.
You don’t love you to love me.
I don’t leave.
I hope you are able to help you.
I’m fine.
I’m dwindled down.
And frankly – you helped me.
That’s why you’re here with me now.
Space is between atoms, and atoms are not race.
They just,
Are.
And I still keep you close, with no trust.
And enemies are sent to hospitals and detox.
And you do the same.
There’s no unequivocable in you.
In the blame game.
Controlling anger, you’ll lose me if you don’t.
Push me away if you linger.
And still.
I look for you and your gate
In the your step
And hope
I find you, with no frown.
I gotta get out the house sometimes.
And no money has been demeaning.
But my long black curls are a sign of healing.
I dyed my hair crazy colors too.
And even in the Checkouts Line.
I always went to the one,
In Booth Two.
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