Thursday, March 12, 2015


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 

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