Broken Light

I died in my dream last night,

Not pleasantly no no not pleasantly,

I was crushed by a curse,

The weight of my culture scraped into my swollen shoulders,

The weather made it worse,

The sky would cry its stolen ice boulders hoping the ground would hurt,

The vibrations would call my knees to ground,

The sound,

Would cause my ears to ring,

The debris,

Would cause my breathing to act up and my skin to sting,

I had a memory of living toward greater means,

I wanted to thrive and yearned to be seen,

I had aspirations, motivations, and death dreams,

Every morning and every night,

I would speak to myself in the mirror trying to kindle that internal light,

When it died down the darkness stopped the beating on my chest,

I got swamped with fatigue and dived into disinterest,

Chronically depressed,

Eating beside my own shit and sleeping atop my own mess,

I could not see beyond my sight,

Every morning and every night,

I would talk to myself in a building’s window to try and rekindle that light.

 

I did not know what it meant to be spiritually blind,

I was always the only person on Earth and could not stand being around people,

I would scoff at the church steeples,

Call the church people “sheeple”,

And move on with my dirty day.

 

My people would stare at me and my beggin’ hands,

Giving pity and pennies,

Two days have passed on an empty corner and questioning faces.

 

To Be Treated

You look trapped in your pictures,

You cannot exceed the frame,

He grips your side with a smirk,

You look down smiling at the dirt,

Let’s be honest, it’s obvious you’re hurt,

It’s obvious that what goes on at home must not be seen at church,

He’s obviously abusive,

And there’s a reason why he wants to keep your relationship completely exclusive.

 

You have like 2 friends, your two older sisters,

And when you need something, both of their responses couldn’t be swifter,

But you never say you need anything,

Even though you’re hungry for validation,

You need no other external influence to bring you to the realization-,

That his love is blisters,

He gets jealous when you talk to men at work…

 

Transactional communication coated with copious aggression,

He always has to teach you something to make sure you learn your lesson,

At least three punches a night,

Not a fight,

Because you never hit back,

You just wait for him to finish and you apologize for the slack,

Your face is perfect,

Too perfect,

Mounds of makeup,

Smile is overexerted.

Stories you gotta make up,

Wearing foundation at the gym,

A relationship polluted with glum and grim-

Representations of control,

The society advises you to step off the battlefield before the battlefield takes its irreparable toll,

You’re a glutton for pain, so of course you’ll stay,

He’ll eventually snap one day,

And crush your head on the wall,

Your sisters would be at your funeral crying at your call-

To not speak to your family about the throes of your fall,

He would run away…well crawl-

Into a hole to evade the police,

Your body would be left on the bloody floor with your name still on the lease,

Just because no one taught you how men should treat.

 

Plague

I had a dream that I lost her,

The light left and I was forced to rekindle my flame in this new darkness,

I had a dream that I saw her, bewildered and heartless,

We had to be stuck in the same cage,

Because I could feel her breath on my shoulder,

The breath began to go colder and her eyes began to glow bright red,

She was trying to wake the dead-

Feeling of abandonment but bred injustice instead,

She was between two nexuses I didn’t care about,

I began to shout-

In the dark,

Trying to keep my spark,

From being consumed by her stark-

Attempts to swallow me whole.

 

I woke up,

To the bells of my alarm clock,

Completely sweaty, completely still in shock,

I could not believe,

That another person convinced me I didn’t need to breath,

That another person made my wants feel like my needs,

I couldn’t believe,

That I would be force-fed an understanding I simply could not conceive,

A plight of reality of knowledge,

A pain held on my ribs,

I got up to work…

Getting dressed with my eyes closed…

 

Lice

I used to get beaten in my sleep from emotional dreams,

I would jolt up in cold turmoil and try to rock myself back to sleep.

 

I was never afraid to wet the bed with the tears taken from me,

Giving substance to the memories of unsightly abuse,

My eyes had no other use,

But to give life to my imagination of cutting my oppressor into two,

Or three,

I was never ever afraid to wet the bed…with the tears that were taken from me.

 

Years would pass,

I would…I would laugh,

The memories would last,

I could not would not forget,

There was no space for positivity to fit,

Space-less pieces of meat and shit,

Forced into a giant head,

Tiny lice’s proclivities to my bed…

 

 

Once the decade touched,

I wanted to move, but too much,

I wanted to get better,

I wanted to change the proverbial mental weather,

That I’ve keep for years,

That I kept tied intimately with my fears,

I hated their stain,

I could see it every time I experienced pain,

I wanted to kill everything I touched,

I wanted to improve, but not too much,

I couldn’t lose the person I thought I found,

In the mirror of yesterday staying into the presently unsound,

I wanted to win,

So…I did.

 

 

 

Delon

She got into a minivan,

He drove off, like fast,

She looked at a million mini strands-

Of browned stained grass,

The outsiders stared into the van-

With dark tinted glass,

The little lady loosens laces-

Of her stained soccer shoes,

Ol’ Little lady making faces at-

Her trained boxer bruised,

She squeals with her tongue,

He slams on brakes,

Her body goes numb,

She jumps quick as she wakes,

Outside a dumpster on Delon,

She stands and her waist,

Drenched in dried white from what he’s done,

She searches around this place,

Screaming loudly with half lung…

I can feel the tension still stagnate in my legs,

I can still see the imprint of where the seat bit her head,

I can smell the pain on the top of her breath,

I call still feel vibrations as she dances near death,

I reach high into the sky parked beside the blue van,

Grabbing shards of myself to build a new man,

I stare at God for minutes on end,

He stares back at me casting consequence to sin.

The sirens are screaming the sirens are screaming,

The day has came down, the night now has meaning,

I turn to my right and see white red lights,

The cop sprung out of his vehicle and read me my rights,

I pray in silence in hope that God might,

Give me a reason to take my own life.

With Decision

I don’t want to be the reason she dies,
I would not be able to live with myself,
Two innocent souls, one transgression,
No, not again.

Vibrantly violent what I beheld,
What pain struck my chest,
What pain struck her chest,
It struck her worse,
It struck me best,
Relentlessly forced me to express-
My guilt for my actions impure…
While still unsure my complete intentions,
These actions, extensions-
Of what my subconscious would not release peacefully,
And as the mountain of disdain increased speedily,
I collapsed beneath its weight,
I broke her, and that is when I knew I could break,
Cold and still beyond the night,
Bursting into day,
My worries would come to stay,
Drag me to reality, and demand me to display-
My worst.

I would rue the next night’s coming,
Heart pounding outside my ribs,
To know I wouldn’t sleep,
Openly burdened by tribulations I couldn’t speak,
Dedicated self-hatred slander and slurs I couldn’t peep,
I would be the epitome of self-defeat,
Again,
Which means once I rose,
From the heaps of her I tried to dispose,
At a new nexus now with a decision only God knows.

Cemetery Girl

Busy of late,
Running towards,
In the dark, who fate,
Chooses to intimidate…
Eliminate,
The cold cemetery girl bewitched by the dead of night,
Twist and turn under the moonlight’s burn,
Again and again.

With each step,
I do not forget
My reasons to greet death,
With open arms,
Her unholy frozen charm,
Keeps me running.

The purest thing I know,
Her essence gives darkness to my negative space,
Beating frantically what is not,
Finally cloaking what I should not see,
In…and outside of me,
My sweet pea, my darling.

She’s always quiet when she speaks,
I always convince myself that she’s dying when she sleeps,
She implores I do not do that…,
It will bring unwanted stress to my already feeble bones,
My love frightens me when she’s still like, cold like stone,
I believe her home she’s outgrown,
I ask her to come with me,
Follow me back,
She hesitantly silently agrees,
She jumps on my back,
Latches on my shoulders while keeping herself intact,
We arrive at my home,
And plague the people I live with, selfish and unknown,
Breaking the skeleton of my mother’s own throne,
Bashing and beating,
Maiming and mistreating,
She speaks up now,
Loud and screaming,
Providing me with meaning-
To my actions seemingly violent by the minds I’ve set free,
Let them be dead, like her…and me,
Cemetery girl, utterly free,
She smiles…and winks,
I think,
I thinks,
She blinks.