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My heart belongs in Arizona

I long for the fire
of the Arizona sky.
I long for the wind
caressing dusty mountains
way up high.

I long for the blackened desert
touched by the tail of a lone fire horse
that burns like our desire
and leaves our bodies torched.

Stand with me
beneath a burning sun
that'll drench our skin
and leave our souls undone.

My heart belongs in Arizona.
A poem from my journal.
We were a photograph.
Trapped in a beautiful memory,
blinded by the flash
that imprisoned us within the moment.
I still have our photograph.
A soul asleep
found bullets colliding
and the devil was charged
only for the bullets that missed.

So Riot! Riot! Riot!
And burn it down!

Because a soul that weeps
fuels the body
that riots.

Amerikkka was built on the backs of bruised, ****** black backs and I refuse to let my ancestors' forced sacrifice be forgotten because acknowledging the racism that thrives in the country you loves make you uncomfortable. Lives over capitalism. My ancestors were forced to build this country...and their descendants will tear it down.
And in her last moments,
my grandmother turned to me
with tears swelling in her tired eyes
and said
I weep not because of the beauty
which I am leaving
but because of all the beauty
which has yet to come.

I still weep with you.
To my great grandmother. A decade has passed and the pain remains the same, but the beauty you spoke of is so evident.
I remember your words
flowing from your lips
like liquid fire
warming my tired bones.

Oh, what is sober
to swaying hips
that swirl like jack
in a clear glass?

Drink my soul dry
like numbing whiskey
teasing the tongue
the way you tease my thoughts.

I take in every drop
of you
like the addict
I am.
I would drink the bottle dry a thousand times over if the world promised me you waited for me at the bottom.
Blessed are they
who see hope
amidst the perils
of heartbreak.
I am broken.
you only loved her
because she felt
like sunshine
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