blank

It’s covered, muzzled. Quiet with a conscience. Reflective in silence.

It’s a blank page. The range of emotions  surface. It stares back at me. In agony I surrender, rather than have it dismember my insides. My pride pushed aside. I bow down and crown the page. It has me caged as I stare and fade into it. We fade into on another. I become blank as it. Blank of meaning, deprived of really seeing the themes and dreams I’ve chased all along. It has to be wrong to fell this blank. Rank, it stains me. I smell of nothing. One to blind with fear to write anything down. Afraid of the names they’ll call or the way the ground hurts when you fall. It’s all too much. Free of any luck or rescue. Right on que I give up. And ball my paper up. I put my pen aside. And accept that what I have to say doesn’t matter anyway. Who would listen to the days and ways I pray and pray for strength to say what I really want t say. So I pretend that there’s nothing there at all. Left in awe I pace back and forth narrowing the scope in which I’ll be able to reach, teach, create. Rather subside than collide. What if they don’t agree. What if I don’t feed what I need to feed with the seed God gives us all to grow up and be what we’re supposed to be? What if I don’t do what He needs me to. What if I can’t? What if I stay blank?

I’m confusing

Not understood. But swiftly. You run to my side. Like .695? Like you know the number of mother fuckers you could ever be called. So I call on them and call you them. Cuz you know I’m crazy and you know my vision. Yea you know my vision. You pin me and win me. An endless decisin being maid. Cuz I maid a decision of prolific discretion. I kept you secret. Cuz your love for me was a secret. Me never knowing what your  muse for it could have been. And when you win, I win. And when we sin it hurt from within, cuz you being faint and faithful was important from the beginning. And from the beginning I knew that winning would win over that new new real real. Cuz that’s what I knew would win. Cuz that’s what wins. 

So scary and scarce . The left overs. That’s all you can offer me. And if it’s left overs, then the days of strays can’t be celebrated. and we again would be like the days before we had to hid the way we felt about we. Cuz being we means that we are horrible people. Yea horrible people. And we’d rather be miserable than be horrible people. 

The themez

Frame and refrain. 

Hazy eyed and jealous. Headlines spoken in whisper. Cuz I wasn’t what you were meant to be with. Comparably though. How much prettier is she than me. How much deeper can she get. Inside of me. As  you stroke and poke. Never knowin. Never knowing.

How the one begotten son could have become this sad and slow. This sober and swollen. Heart swollen. Eyes swollen. Dick swollen. Cuz not only is that thing poking, but in this slow nothing the things wrong  hurt so much. And the bad doesn’t  make me feel so lonesome. As it once did. As we collide. As we erupt. If only momentarily. I confide and i’m alive. If only for a moment. If only for a moment. 

The gaze

And in those days. Even strays gaze. The fordinnen haze I seem to portray. It’s not not the truth, but I force it, in the mean time. When we lie down. In the name of shame we refrain from spreading. Cuz remorse are never remote. 

Space

Eliminate that air that floats in between us at night. It’s too cold. It’s freezes my flesh. No instead I’d rather have you close to me. Warming me in all the right spots like you used to. Intimacy. That’s what we need. To let our love fly free. To let you be inside of me without really being inside of me. Beyond penetration. Where gazing and grazing on your food for soul that you offer me daily never ceases to amaze me. Where you eliminate the tears and fears I feel as I stare lonely and anxious and the realization of how ugly I truly am. This ugly hurts. It goes farther and deeper than skin on a body. It haunts me daily as I sit and recycle memories of the ways in which I ran away aimed at something different because I thought I new better. But come stormy weather you held me together better than any sweater or shelter could. So no space. Please. No space. I chase and pace until it wastes away. I just pray that in the process we don’t. 

Maybe..

and maybe this thing we’ve received. if we could agree, could be the best of you and me. This thing that seems to mean that we can’t flee to the deep and dark scary places that once sheltered us from any traces of our own faults. The things that made me scream that nothing’s wrong with me. Oh was I wrong. But maybe what’s wrong with me is that my love for you surpasses earthly emotion I’ve ever felt. It overcomes me. And in its essence, it’s apart of me and will always be. Because you’ve loved unconditionally. And maybe in future days we’ll equate greatness with our past pain. Because it’s built all that we are. I trust you beyond logic and love you from all that is me…. And maybe we will always be you and me…. Maybe 

exit

Word to be wise, watch for the lies. When trust is not enough and tucked away in your pocket is a locket where you keep secrets clenched tight so that only your grasp can cuff them. But i trust you as friends tend to. And what you leave is a bitter frangrence of deceit in the air. I’m not sure what but something is off with you. But I trust you as tend to. Apparently you never needed me so you flee to the places where stains of inappropriate thoughts linger without you speaking of them. You seem to get lost in translation when we communicate lately. I can’t tell if you want this to work or just want me to hurt. Cuz you can’t have both in this kind of love lady. And something about the way you’ve been lately that makes me crave the days when you’re farther away. But i trust you as friends tend to. But are we even really friends? I don’t think so. 

A thing of beauty.

Dismissing the fits and misconceptions that exist causing this cognitive dissonance.

Elated at the ways I can portray myself but disappointed at the way the joy aims away from who I really am. Because I am not a compilation of pictures and poses. It goes against what I say I am. God completes all that is Good in me. But I’m finding that I have to squeeze Him in between when I get this way. And I don’t like to get this way. To portray what I think others want to see and negate the real beauty. Because the real beauty is scary. It is untouchable and not to be tamed. For in its rawest form it is strong enough to mend the fences of the broken pieces and petals of broken hearts and souls. It explores and wonders and asks for the best in me. And why would I change a thing of beauty? No not a thing of beauty. It’s purpose has yet to be served. So it must remain free to express its to nature to nay sayers who don’t believe that it really exists. That beauty from within can defy what the masses project to be the real definition of it. It can and will make me feel free. A thing of beauty. Crazy it I we seem to think that the thing could ever be caged or staged. It is no animal to be tamed. Unchanged and free it must remain.

And oh how oh how a thing of beauty.

The dance of a thousand fools

I thought I saw you.

I thought it was you out there on the ledge.

 

Crazy you seem, dangling between the cable lines,

jumping roofs and damned near flying, all for me.

For little old me

 

I would have joined you, but it was cold out.

But i watched and watched, as you danced a dance of a thousand fools

Careful not to get too close to the edge.

 

Even so, you stayed out there, beckoning me to come and dance the dance that fools do.

You insisted the cold air would not be so bad if there were two

 

But still I did not come.

 

I was too afraid of falling down having felt the ground.

But you insisted, telling me to hush.

With you we’d never touch that place where I’d once been, if only I’d just trust

 

But still I did not come.

 

But I stayed and watched.

Watched you dance the dance of a thousand fools.

 

Madness this is! You will surely fall!

But you insisted that you’d rather fall then never know this dance at all.

You begged me.

Please come and dance my dance!

Give this love a chance!

 

Still I would not come.

 

I am scared! I am scared! I do not want to fall down! I screamed.

Deprived of the knowledge and meanings required to feel loved.

To feel truly needed.

 

So i left the window.

I no longer wanted to watch you dance your dance.

I collapsed with the realization of my very need for it.

I thought I knew better.

I thought it was just a dance.

 

But then you wouldn’t ask me to come out anymore and eventually, you stopped dancing yourself.

 

I looked out to find you on the ground, disoriented with the fatigue of forever dancing alone.

 

And so i wanted to dance

But it was too late

 

Your heart had grown weary and your bones tired from my absence.

 

So i begged you to please come out and dance the dance that only fools do.

 

You did not come.

 

How do I know you will not let me fall again?

 

I do not know I said. But I want to dance this dance with you. Please come I said.

 

Still you did not come.

 

I do not trust you. You said

Please come out I said. Dance the dance that fools do and you will see that I am reliable. I have sturdy legs that will never fail you. Just come and rest easy Will you come out with me?

 

You did not come.

 

So I danced away, alone all day, until you came to the ledge with me.

 

You said you would dance my dance but if need be, you’d go back inside if you had to leave.

 

I said okay, and we danced the dance of a thousand fools.

 

And the seasons began to change and so did we.

 

We struggled through the dance, many times missing steps and dancing off beat.

 

But still we do this dance and I agree, that I’d never choose another partner, even when you step on my feet.

 

While we dance the dance of a thousand fools.

Inspiration.

Simply because your love is patient.Because your love is kind.

Never knowing what kind of love you’ll supply. But what I do know is until the day I die, I’ll remember and reconfigure all the ways and days and traces of your wet kisses on my lips. Until the dip of our hips equate to a couple of kids.

When a little me and a little you are here and we only fear that expressions on our tainted faced will leave traces on their innocence

But we’ll know the more we grow, the more she and he and they will.

And until that day, I promise never to stray from this. I love you more than I love myself and that scares me beyond belief because in that love there is no relief in a realization that your xyz affects me.

Because I’m a strong black youth that can do whatever I need. But what I need is you, because you need me too and with that truth we are both set free and realize that adjacent to what we need is what we can be and what we can be is everything.