SAFE MOAN

Image from the movie Black Snake Moan

“I wish you would stop holding me. Your grip hurts; striking a nerve of stinging memories, burning with the venom of loves threats. I want to be let go. I want to be free to love, hurt, and heal myself, with my own help. Your gentleness is too rough- if, and because, I say so. Especially when you soften the blows. No matter how deep or pleasing the love, or the stroke when we fuck; it turns you, me- us, into monsters of our own making- the kind we make ourselves fear. Moans cover cries. Ravaging lust covers your eyes. We blind ourselves, hiding lies.”

Aida, ran up the stairs, slammed through the exit door. stumbled onto the gravel roof. She swatted through dust, darted to the ledge, and peered down. Her slender body swayed from the anxiety of chasing a different, better tomorrow.

She had been told many times, she was a strong woman- through sincere smiles, narrow, soul-searching eyes, and hugs held past welcome, to absorb, maybe, transfer pain. So, why was she about to take her life?

“What bug do humans resemble from up here?”

Horror stories crawled into her memory, scratching up tales, adults tell children about gravity; the man whose head exploded from a penny dropping onto it, or the meteoric dent in the ground caused by a falling grape.

“They never tell the truth.” She thought- “Love lifts you, then drops you into disgust-that is the truth about gravity.”

“Shit, that is the truth about love.”

She looked closer. “They look like roaches down there.”

She remembered, what you don't want, always sticks around.

“Why does the law of attraction, work bass-ackwards?”

The roof door banged open, jump-starting Aida’s legs. She scrambled further down the ledge, away from, and out of sight of Anton, who moved with scattering quickness, searching for her.

Anton, “The Butcher”, his moniker among men.” The Wife Butcher,” as he was known to what he called the lesser, opposite of the sexes, because they bleed out what should be private.

Anton suffered from the pulsating belief, he-man, created humanity, and was intellectually superior, not from original thought, but through, following histories leaders, and failures. And as often as man repeatedly brought humanity to failure, they continued to be followed.

Anton was led by two thoughts, “make them remember your name, and strike fear.” He believed this was more powerful than love, because it could not be mistaken, given away, or stolen.

Anton saw Aida and felt a frightening pain. The pain of losing to a woman. He ran, towards her with leaping strides. undecided, whether to push or grab her.

Aida jumped.

He stumbled, as we all do when chasing what doesn’t want or care to be held. He caught himself on the brick ledge, banged his fist, to punish and blame, and hoped a piece would loosen, so he could hit her with it on the way down, quickening her death, but mostly to- provide the finishing touch.

Death, unfulfilled life, is supposed to bring worry, flashing with images of regret as you avoid blinking, to catch, and hold onto every fleeting last image.

Anton’s disappointment comforted Aida. It was a rekindling of romance with her heart breaker. Aida, felt the hope of a victim, dreaming a villain’s revenge. The revenge of seducing Anton’s, brother, uncles, friends, business partners. Secretly taping her, and his affairs. Leaving behind recordings as gifts, for all to see, and secretly aborting their child.

Before she hit the ground, Aida woke up gasping for air. She looked over at Anton, sleeping peacefully, as if time was his mistress. He would wake up satisfied from yesterday’s infidelity, knowing today brought opportunity for more.

Aida slid out of bed, careful not to wake him. She peeked through the blinds, glimpsing freedom, which to her was like fire- an un-controllable danger. She had never allowed herself to get close. This morning, she moved towards it, feeling a comforting warmth, bubbling to a loving heat, blinding Anton to her new truth and power.

A GRATEFUL KID

I am grateful for surviving. Shots, second chances, on corners and in ovaries. I see why people love gambling. It’s the only time a miss can make you happy you lost.

Just kidding, but not really.

Whoever said sinners go to hell ain’t do it right.

Just kidding.

The heat burns hair and hope like open wounds and std’s. Strap up to stay protected from both.

I never know how to respond when someone says they will pray for me. Cause I don’t pray except for nosey, hateful people to leave me alone.

Just kidding. I don’t have time to think about them except for the peace I feel when they disappear.

My children are the only ones I always want to be around-most of the time. They make me realize just how much crime pays. I stole and broke a-lot of hearts to be rewarded with their beautiful faces.

You think I’m kidding.

The Bad District

“I wonder what’s wrong with kids these days?”  “Everybody is so sensitive.” “They just need to deal with it and get over themselves.” “We had to".”

This is the good morning jane gets hit with instead of john’s wood.

They crawl out of bed, devour breakfast anti-depressants, and wash them down with morning therapy sessions.

Their kids hide under covers, trying to block out another day of school hate. Bruised from their distant parent’s ricocheting screams. Hoping like everyone else, they could just end it all.

Delicate Scars

Everytime I smell flowers I shiver. I wonder what souls pushed them up and what messages they want to deliver.

A beauty you can’t forget, dead before receiving the attention owed it.

FOOLISHNESS and LOATHING in the EVERGREEN STATE.

Art by Overton Loyd

A weed smokers heaven. Where hell is a breath away.

Pick-up trucks with flags- American-Confederate- Blue Lives- Mericas favorite militias- the accepted racists, fills me with a calm rage from the poison they spew into the world. I haven’t broken down yet, but I’m running on fumes.

In my life, I have seen real, true power. Birth, love, heartbreak, war, revenge, kindness. The desperate begging for life to be spared, from bullets and knives fighting to end bloodlines. Eyes seeking murder and bodies fucking to avoid it. The momentum of winning and losing- all started from a thought.

I wasn’t alive during the civil rights movement, but I’m living in X and King’s constant un-rest since Blacks demanded a right to move freely, while the world claims they chased away money and quality of life. So, I know we all just can’t get along.

I’m a veteran. I live in a highly military populated state. Where the government claims to be indivisible from discrimination and racism but conducts deals, and hires leaders draped in it, on land they confessed to stealing. We have small towns and cities where people joke “there’s something in the water.” While feeding their families and keeping relationships fresh through permits authorizing the hunting and harassment of species with darker pigments.

This is why White people are anti-fragile. The magnitude in which they’re taught to remember their power versus how Blacks are taught to never know their own is nuclear.

But I know better, and I want that power for Black culture. For our violence to be tolerated and examined with a euro-centric eye, claiming color blindness. I want our celebration to be paid with currency that doesn’t include inditements when our popularity can’t be controlled.

I live where progressives are regressing, and right wingers spit scriptures with venom, seizing whatever sense is left. And it doesn’t matter which side they claim, their main goal is to prosper while barely helping anyone outside of their gang.

They pretend to be on your side and push you, deeper, creating the distance of divorced co-parents. The disturbing part is when you disagree, stating obvious, real facts-for the protection of humanity- you become combative, or racist, but if you’re black, you also become fragile. And that is unforgiveable and un-American.

I give no excuses, for myself or others failure. I just try to pull myself up without pulling others down. At some point, me and those who hate my existence have to go. And I’m trying to be as prepared as they are. But I haven’t mastered greed- the American way- funding both sides of a war I instigated and invited myself to. Persuading others to hate the new enemy I created.

Capitalism is the perfect policy. Those who disagree, are usually broke and die that way. Fighting racism mutes’ pockets. You don’t throw up anything except prayers-unless you’re a patriot who fights Americans. Proudly flashing the mediocre hero sign to assemble fellow pale skin domestic terrorists. That’s the only entertainment America loves more than rap music.

In this predominantly White state called the Evergreen, White people commit the majority of crimes against humanity. Un-reported with a supremacist’s influence, their crimes are not always against Blacks. But enough to fit the description of usual suspects. Making Black people feel as if any contact with them will leave our bodies as an exhibit.

Then our pain is rejoiced like a hymn making you dance and stomp your devilish shadow. I want to relieve myself of evil instead of life. And that’s almost better than a beauty with soft lips.

I think Black people care too much. This is another reason America labels us fragile, at-least mentally- which is another lie we waste time thinking we have to defeat. We take too many steps towards struggle lead by minds we can’t change. we get stuck as a threat and an afterthought, leaving our families praying for hope they never received from tithes or soaking up a bitter punch delivered from a blessed cup. Goddamn, we spend enough money toasting the dead homies.

We become scared to risk anyone else. We become paralyzed from heartache. And nobody, not even people who owe you will touch or help someone they think is sick or a waste of an investment.

as kids, our real happiness came when the system gave us weapons and drugs, AAANNNDDD-FUCK YEAH-they only got stronger, sexier and deadlier. That might be why I never developed a sense of humor.

Kids can always spot the weight of danger. The puddle from a parent’s tears, the gentle close or slam of a door. The Just coming to check on you versus- I got a call from school footsteps. The depressed look of the woman losing out on the wedding bouquet versus arrangements thrown on caskets. The medias organized racism of condemning Black gun violence-while comparing White’s to the first round of puberty.

Cynicism is deadly when it’s no longer a joke. And I never found anything funny or entertaining about the realness of racism. Because racists mean what they say, do what they mean, and kill at will.

And ain’t nothing realer or more gangster or terrorizing than that.

Today’s Rant

I use you.

You use me. How fucking useless.

I get mad. So do you.

That’s what I really want.

It’s all you do.

The fucking madness.

The mad fuck-exhausting!

You fucking mad?

You ask me to!

Fuck.

Anytime?

That’s all I wanna motherfucking do.

PARKING LOT PIMPING

If you’ve never been called a hoe, allow me to be the first to show you how much we’re all being pimped. We are getting our asses taxed to re-locate homeless/houseless people’s mobile homes.  And before you say anything

First!

Let me say, I’m not a monstrous hoe. I believe every fucking body should be given the help they need, but, if I’m paying to be fucked, I better get the ending I deserve.

REMEMBER THAT

Remember who you were before the setbacks. And before you felt trapped by society and yourself.

SEASONED FRUIT

What color?

What spice?

Whatever your type, slap that ass…

Until it becomes plump and ripe.

Massage the body until it’s tender and juicy enough to dig in.

(From my Freaky Friday Collection)

DISAPPEARING ACT

Art by Jacob Lawrence (The Migration Panel no. 55)

Is it death? Do you disappear when you die. Why do I think about you more now than when I had a chance to be with you? What happened? Did I make you disappear? Did I disappoint you? You went away long before I couldn’t touch you anymore. Your heart stopped long before-at-least for me. That’s how it seems anyway. That’s how I took it.

But I’m selfish. I wanted you all or nothing. All to myself, for myself. But I left you alone to be with others, without me. And they knew how to act and make you up. When you said you were acting for yourself, I acted out. Lines I should never have said. Lines I should never have crossed. Was it X’s or crosses sealing your eyes and heart? Arms crossed as you rested. People who missed you crossed over and tried to hold on.

You were stiff and cold. You wanted to go? Like, you had no choice, and you chose it. I’m still confused with the ending, till this day, I will be until my end. Did I choose this for you? I always chose you. It was always you. My love, is it too late to say what you know I should have said and really meant? Instead of making you feel what I never said. I hate… not you… at-least not always for disappearing, but I think I hate death… Not always, but life without you. I hate that for sure, always.

I have to stop now, so I can go on. My eyes are blurry, and I can’t see anymore. But I won’t let you disappear again. And neither will I anymore. I can’t promise because I can barely keep myself together.

Mannish

Don’t ask forgiveness for sins. Face the wreckage for as long as it took you to scheme. Because you meant it when you did it.

You can apologize. But, if the victims don’t accept, at-least you won’t have any more self-hate to collect.

I made it a point to never beat my kids or wife. (I never have & never will). I love them so that should go without saying. But I just learned what man-splaining is.

Every day I see or encounter people I don’t like, who definitely deserve a beating. But I deal with them respectfully- if possible, without forming an extensive mental hit list. I fight hard to have inner peace so I’m not at war with my family. But it sends me home scarred, ready to ruin something beautiful.

I try to avoid people who say, “life is a game.” Cause if they're not on a pro level, they go home with a “I keep losing out there, so I’m gonna beat you in here” attitude.

I check myself on how I talk. My tone, mannerism, and attitude. I know words are just as damaging and traumatizing to kids as a punch, slap, kick, lash from a belt, or whatever is within reach. A few of the nostalgic go-to intimidation tactics, learned from the war against those who didn’t allow suburban America to solely profit from drugs.

Everything’s a trigger to teach obedience with a gangsters calm and rage. I have to remember, asking or telling a child-” What the fuck is wrong with you?” Or “Just be fucking quiet for a goddamn minute, so you can learn something.” turns kind people into killers.

WHAT IS A N- WORD?

They don’t care about truth, only triumph.

It’s hell for a Black person to know. And a Black heaven is what White people pretend to loathe.

White Niggers. Yes, go ahead and say it. They exist. You used to say wigger like those sly deceivers on fox news. But You don’t have pretend anymore.

The term and definition created through the Aryan version of enlightenment, and anthropology, was influenced by racist scientist Charles Darwin. He helped interpret nigger to mean- ignorant of low intelligence, and perpetually insane.

Do you know the definition of insanity? Of course, you do. There ain’t a know-it-all lesson niggers haven’t heard of.  But allow me to American-splain racism.

Insanity is the definition of a person playing in the same shit over, and over, again, every day and expecting to miraculously find clean shiny treasure. That even sounds insane right? So basically, insanity is a fancy word for being ignorant on purpose, like racists and niggers.

I listened to an audio book by one of Americas beloved White authors. Talking that talk, turning Caucasians into crackers, to lash Blacks faster than ppp reparations. And protecting White people like insurance and DeSantis.

The narrator referred to the only Black character as a nigger. The author is dead now but remains a lauded literary whose books are assigned to children, to test and prove their intelligence. A very, very, important metric when brainwashing converts into oppressive think.

GODDAMN insane if you ask me. A Black man trying to end ignorance.

This damage to Caucasian brains through the science of believing obvious lies was the original drug. The overdose was an epidemic before Mein Kampf’s genocide helped Orwell’s fiction become Americas favorite religion. Before White children stoned and hung Black’s over the de-segregation of schools. Before it was required for White people to pretend racism was bad for business.

SO why do we keep teaching children the same lessons. With all the brilliant businessmen, manipulating technology. Earning trillions from paying un-livable wages, while polluting air, food, water, and minds. Convincing people to waste life in exchange for time. And we happily just-do-it-like dying old and wise without capital and assets doesn’t leave criminal genes as an inheritance.

Is it because England treated White Americans inferior, and Americans trained immigrants with that same fear, giving them PHD’s in racism, faster than citizenship?

GODDAMN Insane if you ask me, a Black man trying to end the ignorance.

For that I’m called a Nigger. A name drowned in blood for Black children under triggers. While White people with the heart to help are called monsters and taught it’s sexier to be selfish and destructive than build capital through social justice. Unless you are an establishment paying to keep both sides of the racist and anti-racist fence quietly at odds, while promoting a dedication to humanity.

The government kept Malcolm X and MLK Jr. broke, then killed them when they demanded dollars instead of change. And now they use Kings name to promote peace, love, and a seat at the table to keep Blacks from moving up.

GODDAMN Insane if you ask me, a Black man trying to end the ignorance. And for that I’m called a Nigger.

Remember-that (ER) on the end of a White person’s favorite slur, is used to mock mentally challenged people. And we all know mentally challenged people, insanely enough are called retarded and teased with the (ER) sound-made disgustingly famous by Americas most popular racist. The ex-convicted President Donald Trump.

Trumps blueprint is being used by The North Thurston Public School District. The same way he revolutionized domestic terrorism with white adults and children, spreading alternative facts and dismissing truth as fake news-is how the district got away with, and continues to portray The Black student union (BSU-which included all races, and genders), as an illegitimate angry mob.

As the BSU peacefully protested against racism, rape, and sexual harassment in schools, the district compared it to a teacher’s STRIKE- telling everyone biased enough to listen, - (parents, community members, staff members, news media)- including those less ignorant, that “the BSU students were a violent, angry, disruptive mob, protesting for no reason.”

The district repeatedly sent out emails, appealing to White parents fear of a Black attack, and Blacks parents fear of White back lash. The district even threatened to have the students arrested for violence, but a Lacey Washington, police officer witnessed the protest and said the BSU had a right to be there and didn’t do anything wrong.

In a letter approved by school board president Dave Newkirk, The district said the BSU was disturbing the Life Skills (Special Needs) students particularly more than any others. The Life skills teachers denied the districts accusation and sent rebuttal emails/letters showing their support for the BSU. But instead of apologizing with the same fierceness used to villainize the BSU- the district pulled their Trump card. And sent their public relations representative Courtney Schrieve to reiterate the lie and mislead the north Thurston community on live news.

The district publicly oppressed and disgraced students they pretend to protect and care about.

What’s the word for that?

The district claims it’s fulfilling obligations to the students because it agreed to all the BSU’s demands. The same demands it initially denied and threatened to expel students over. Ironically those same demands were already policies the district was not enforcing. This same district protects dirty teachers and administration like churches protect pedophiles, and precincts protect racist cops. Honoring them through relocation and giving awards to Black administrators who dismissed students’ rights during protests. Playing both sides of the fence, indifferent to their tricks being noticed.

A district that pays everyone- (except students that rewrote policy and held negotiations), with more than dismissive words and actions. A district that breaks its own policies while rewarding the students and their supporters with hostility, and a severe patience to slowly wear down and silence anyone involved in the movement-because they will eventually pass.

GODDAMN Insane, if you ask any man given the nigger please treatment, as his bosses say I wish he would do something different

Why do we allow disrespect towards others to convince ourselves we aren’t the wretched? Then wonder why we aren’t respected.

Why do I smile at the actual enemy but clench teeth, and fists when I see those with my own magnificent reflection?

White society portrays its self-inflicted horror as Black terror. Scabbing innocent minds and bodies of children. But when the layers are peeled and traumas links are revealed, they shrink away from cold truth, and use Americas will to uphold lies.

Even the fictional White colored Christ taught truth sets us free. But that statement shackles. And the violent clatter of his history is followed by destruction, anger, denial, and a poison, swimming through bodies like slaves trying to escape murderous, child trafficking, rapist, pedophile, tyrant, racist capitalists of child labor- aka the real Niggers.

White society doesn’t want its children to form the opinion that Black people are right, or as insane people say when they admit a fact they want to avoid, “they’re not wrong.”

But they are just following protocol, right? Hiding facts in order to pass laws. Laws lower class White’s fight to uphold- and won’t benefit from living in their G.ive H.elp E.nough T.o T.urn O.ut. Trailers. The Black Panthers warned about this when they formed the rainbow coalition. The movement made so much sense, fascist confederate flag waving Whites joined the movement. What united Black Panthers, Puerto Ricans, white Southerners? New doc details 'First Rainbow Coalition' (nbcnews.com) Associated Press, 2020.

Last time I checked, most people fighting to avoid helping each-other improve are all standing in the same lines, scraping by, at the same jobs, arguing with the same bill collectors, while the district leadership, politicians, and business owner’s profit, laugh, get drunk, high and say,

“Look at those dumb, broke White Niggers fighting with their Black accomplices. Racism and poverty have always been the real crisis and epidemic. We love that they keep themselves too ignorant to understand.”

The North Thurston Public School District, President of the Education ASSOciation delayed funds to help the Black Student Union pay for a lawsuit against the district. He was also the only person in his association that didn’t sign a letter of support for the BSU, but said he wanted to investigate the accuracy of the BSU claims. That’s a bold statement from a district that changed their reporting system to minimize reports of racial discrimination and sexual harassment. The same district that agreed to the BSU’s demands to conduct a third-party independent study.

Yes, you read that right. They delayed funds supporting a lawsuit investigating illegal behavior but claim they will do whatever it takes to improve.

That's like clogging your toilet, then continuing to use it, and when it overflows saying you don’t know why your house is full of shit.

A prominent member of the city reached out and asked me if we could speak. He said the way I communicate was harsh and wasn’t solving the problem between the BSU and the district. He said he wanted to help brainstorm about what could be done different. I said word. And What I heard back was silence, with a head aching volume that continues to allow the district to hide evidence and resist truth.

I once heard a Black comedian say he was allowed to say retarded because he always lets retarded people say the word Nigger,

Which one do you find more offensive? If you’re thinking, that’s obvious because racists aint the r-word, then that must make Americans who allow racism, or pretend it doesn’t exist insane niggers.

The White Nigger Experience. They don’t care about truth. They care about triumph. It’s hell for a Black person to know. And a Black heaven is what White niggers pretend to loathe. Some claim and do show love but only assist if Blacks beat them between the sheets or the opposing team.

Shout out to the comedian Brian Simpson. Watch him on the Netflix special THE STANDUPS.

And if you catch yourself saying that’s why we should get rid of critical race theory, listen to me, give yourself a pep talk right now.

Repeat the following: “I will no longer be or allow the r-word.”

Critical Race Theory should be taught, but the name should be changed to Critical World History.

Theory is a fancy word for opinion. And White people have made it damn near illegal to tell the truth about them. Florida bill backed by DeSantis would bar businesses and schools from making anyone "feel discomfort" about race - CBS News .

And just in case you don’t know true world history, these rules coded to attack Blacks ain’t nothing new. Reconstruction: The Black Codes | PBS Learning Media .

And just to show I am open to White truth check out- Bill Burr Stand-Up Monologue - SNL - YouTube

Give Me Strength

Sometimes, having strength and courage means walking away.

Today’s Science

Is there a difference between White math and Black math? Because the fuckery is adding up and Blacks are the only ones being subtracted.

HARD ROCK

I still got a young hustlers dream.

To help all the boys survive and become men. To help them live rich as a father who knows the importance of providing for his children. And loving your mother and the woman you are with more than a girl with good head and soft lips.

I want my eyes to see what I can’t believe. Like mending wounds made in the heat of moments, from brothers that were once cool.

Those tears show a man’s strength and growth. Blood ain’t the only thing that makes family. And love alone don’t keep a union whole.

You need trust, acknowledgement, and responsibility-especially when you fuck up. Because those trips are expensive, and that fall leaves you senseless.

I been on every tier of wealth, to broke and begging for help. But no matter how hurt- I cut off anybody that accepts being broken.

I know…

The nerve…

You gotta avoid the poison that numbs and keeps you from realizing you’re hurt.

OG TIPS FOR SURVIVAL

Take a moment, and a deep breath before you speak. It could save you from them being your last.

SEXY DAD JOKES

A mother, going on a date for the first time since separating from her teenage son’s father, is putting the finishing touches on her outfit,

Her date arrives and rings the doorbell, and hears her yell,

“get the door for me sweetie.”

Her son opens the door.

The date extends his hand.

The son looks at the date like he just took his hand out of his pants, turns his back, shakes his head, but leaves the door open.

The date steps inside, maintains his gentleman and closes the door gently. He clears his throat.

The son, now sitting on the couch playing a game, doesn’t bother to look up.

The mother bounces out from a hallway and watches her dates eyes trace her entire body with sharp pleasure.

“Heeey”, I’ll be right out.”

She smiles, winks and says,

“You thirsty?”

The date starts to smile but catches her son giving him a look of someone plotting death.

“No thanks, I’ll wait till we get there.”

“Ok, this is my son…”

The son stands up, cutting her off…

“What’s your name?”

The date says “Carl.”

Carl walks over and extends his hand again.

The son shoos his mother to go and finish getting dressed. She smiles and follows the young man of the house’s instruction.

The son steps to the date, but again, doesn’t shake his hand.

“Carl is a corny ass name, and my mom…WE… Don’t like corny ass niggas.”

Carl grins and flashes gold fangs and a look that scares boys and men straight.

“My full name Carlito.”

“Oh, you think you some type of fake PAPI?”

The son sucks his teeth and checks to make sure his mother is out of sight.

“Cornball Carl, or Carl the cornball” “Which one do you like?”.

Carl steps back, retreating. He looks down the hall to see what the fuck is taking so long.

“You can just call me Carl.”

The son steps forward confidently.

“Listen CORNBALL, I mean Carl. Let’s clear this up right now. I don't want nuttin to do witchu. So, I don’t have to call you shit.”

Carl calmy and swiftly grips the back of the boy’s neck and tricep like a vice. He pulls the boy towards him. Instantly treading the line only, the most intimate of friends and enemies walk. Close enough to know exactly what each other ate, drank, and the actual shade of each other’s teeth. And because the boy’s mouth was open, as he held in the pain-Carl was judging the size of his mouth, and how far back his throat went.

Carl said,

“You’re right. I apologize, you can just call me MOTHERFUCKER.”

Before the boy could react, his mother sauntered out in a dress made for easy access and says,

“See I told you my baby is a respectful young man.”

Carl stepped back and nodded in agreement. He gave the son a playful but defining back hand to the chest. And said,

“IT WAS REALLY NICE TALKING TO YOU!”. I’ll be seeing you.”

The mother kissed her son and caressed his face while he stood in shock.

Tell Me Something Good

Say something nice. It can literally save a life.

Holding on

How do you get kids to avoid the same mistakes you still make?

Leave them-to let them dig their own graves?

No amount of dirt covers that feeling of your children questioning your success. Looking at hand-me-downs that hold you down, out of nostalgia, time, comfort, conformity, desperation, lack of confidence- cause you prioritized self-indulgence over self-knowledge.

Positively remembering all negative moments, of how you were raised, never minding, your part, in how you behaved. Those old excuses, like the chairs and table that used to be new. You kept them just in case. Useable, but rickety and outdated. It runs in the family, like gifting concussions, instead of discussion.

You avoided staying sharp, like the dull, jagged silverware with that weird stain. The messiness, allowed for so long it seems senseless to clean. Home sloppy- like the minds and bodies inside it, from good fat and healthy overeating-a curable disease we refuse to treat. 

I been angry all my life. And it aged me twice as fast. Angry at the rules I refused to learn because I didn't like games, and got played anyway. Disliking attitudes but thinking people need to respect mine.

Why do free men keep an inmate’s mentality? Caged behind open doors and windows, staying out of touch with any improvement to their reality. The scent of a new day and silence filled with noise that drugs can’t quiet, seems scarier outside the walls you trap yourself behind.

We can always imagine beating demons of the past while avoiding the present opportunities.

But the same lie tricks fools and wise men.

PRIME TIME

It took me until my body broke down to realize I had more to offer than being tough. The struggles of doing the right thing in wrong environments or doing good in bad situations, is like getting tossed expired food as a reward every time you help someone with their groceries.

You stop caring. Because all you see is people asking to be harmed. Eventually that pain shifts you to wake up. You feel the calm pleasure of night winds pillow talk. Or morning birds chirping and welcome a noise opposite gossip, or guns yelling duck, dive, die.

Chasing good thoughts instead of shaking bad ones until my head aches is where I rest at now. But only for a short time, because I don’t wanna get stuck watching my past run down my future.