Sand/grit

There would seem to be no other way

no better way

than that which we have encountered,

the gentle struggle for which we have already begun

in this room where my heart is pounding so hard

like a cat being chased by a dog
knowing; full-well i will be torn apart if they reach us 

in our defamed world that contains fatal consequence

filled with tenacity, that we mine from a hole

trying to fill the holes in ourselves and make the best

with every white-knuckle-night that we seem to surpass

the days drift off into a world that cannot last

I cannot agree

I cannot bow down

And cannot accept that this is my fate

I will not die here, in this shopping center

And I am glad I got away

I am glad to be released, from the grip of the ghetto

But this world does not admire the free

It only worships the enslaved

As they look into the various reflections of their vanity

and thoughtlessly admire themselves proud that they have endured another day in this incessant cookie-cutter bullshit

never have I ever seen a place with so many enforcers and a complete dearth of enforcement

and time casts a different lens

time makes all things real

I learned things about myself I never wanted to know, I fought a thing I never wanted to see

 it touches you, it can never be undone, it can never be unlearned

I have felt the rage

I have felt the hate

burned inside of us like the sound of a your roommate raping his girlfriend

like the domestic violence of your neighbors spilling into the street

guns drawn, in the flickering blue-and-red lights that send them into the depths of their realm

as animals fleeing into the jungle

I saw them; Somewhere between terror and opportunity their their crystal meth laced minds spinning in some great way, yet never making traction in this reality.

I fought them in the night, and fired at them to defend my property

and my livelihood

you get a taste for violence.

Like so many things. It becomes you.

It feels a lot like fractured ribs.

Yet it only ever hurts like a dying fire

that you have been forced to learn to wield.  

It is the ache that fills me with gratitude

The somberness of deciding what you’re willing to live without

Like Learning to feel without tears, because you cannot spare the water

fading into the night like some ardent desert creature