he mirrors the darkness in me
thoughts I think and quell
and feelings I stifle, he speaks
all created from a world that has boxed me, us, in
blindly jabbing fire pokers through it
I am a result
an effect that I control
for hope of becoming more
and fear of being seen as less,
proving a nostalgic narrative right
and I sleep in the room with my worst nightmare and image of self
sleep is hard
dreaming I’ll be overtaken by myself
my worst fear
because what I keep inside
he keeps out
and I question
would I sleep soundly around myself?
who would win if I fought myself?
and what is the greater purpose of being locked in a room,
with both sides-the completeness of myself?
I fear his truth threatening to break the dam of the light,
or lies that I may have chosen for myself
and what that could mean
because he has life
his truth and reality may never change again
and I’m going into the dynamic pliable oppressive yet ever-changing presence of society
I’m am forever rendered subject to the influence of change
but as of right now,
I am in a world of myself
and there is no escape when you can view both sides of the mirror
a psychopath may be looking right back at you
looking just like you
seeing you more clearly than the lies you instruct yourself to be seen in
Inside
Safe and Soundless
quiet as kept
what’s quiet, is kept
my quiet unkept
I
require a breath
(exhale)
quiet and kept
but
I’m,
acquiring less-
a,
choir of stress-
(shhh)
quiet as kept
so,
quiet is kept
no mea culpa
contrary to public preference and expectations
I’m not sorry for the laws I disobeyed
ONLY the people I hurt
if opportunity was created equal
then the system imposed,
would not punish the very iniquities and inequalities it creates
I’ve apologized too many times
for too many things that I shouldn’t have had to
and to people that do not deserve it
when forced to feel smaller
what’s the point of an expectation of being a bigger man
besides submission to powerlessness?
my only question is
whose moral compass am I supposed to follow?
my own?
yours?
or everyone else’s?
… just thought I’d give you a chance to hear your own answer
Plans Forwarded, Moved Backwards
I have to unlearn,
what I unlearned
and re-learn,
what I tried forgetting
and then learn on the go,
what I have yet to have learned
even when places stay the same
faces change, people change
and so I must change
just to keep up
or I’ll be kept down
and stepped on
Lethal Injection
black people don’t have the best history in America…
well there’s more to this statement,
this can apply to almost anything black in America
but when it comes to medicine malpractice and experimentation
nor do poor people
and so when you place poor people in prison
barely care for their health
disregard the living situation you put them in
then ask them if they want a vaccine to help them
well uh, trust isn’t high on our list
people don’t trust prisoners
and we do not trust yaw
even at our own detriment
so fuck that needle
we want our shot at freedom
but there’s no telling what you may put in it
so we might not make it back from that shot
everyday in here is already a death penalty
we not trying to speed up that reality
just cause you got it for cheap
call us jaded, we learned from you
but threaten and wager our visits,
you got our attention
then risk we will
so shoot us up!
and we’ll sing like the Hamilton play-
“I’m not throwing away my, SHOT!”
because all jokes aside,
being forgotten and unseen is a far worse fate
Home is Where I Had to Make
I feel the beast calling to me
consuming me back into her belly
and it feels so familiar
so warm and homely
nostalgically remembering it being my home
I developed inside of her
cooing like a baby to her grumblings
rocked to sleep by her roars
kept warm by the fire broiling inside of her
and now that she has called me back,
back home
I wonder if this is,
in fact, my true home
because strangely,
I feel more comfortable inside of her belly
as if this was her womb
and birthed the warrior and man that I came to be
what would I be outside of her
who would I be without her
though she breeds danger
I know her softer side
I know her what’s deep inside
because it is where I reside
and the inside is what counts
though the hypocrisy of the world only knows her externally
so she is named, regarded, and judged as doom
and men, wounded men-
seen as savages-
are sent to her to meet their doom
but it was the wretched ways of the world-
that first doomed me-
funny how that works
and as I claim to desire to get back out
to have my freedom above all else
not for the mere fact of having freedom
because I have found that within myself,
but for what I would now do with freedom
yet I found freedom inside, of all places
do I want to get out?
do I really?
the embers of flame brooding inside of her
sending shockwaves to my spine
as my hairs rise like a porcupine’s
salivating as I open my mouth to ventilate
the smoke inhalation is akin to fresh baked cookies out of the oven
and I feast upon my own destruction
what else is there to do?
this, is no place for man
this is no place for mail
but like any cast away,
I was forced to make it a place for me
while I was returned to the belly of the beast
with a note, “damaged male, return to sender”
because the world and I still had things to address
and freedom hadn’t built a home for me yet