The Skin Color

Fact!
Zebras can’t sleep alone.
In a way I know how they feel. Every New Years Eve’s night, the hood turns into the Serengeti
and I’m the zebra waiting for my zebra friend named silence so i can feel secure enough to go to sleep.
Cause when the glock strikes 12, the ferocious bullets escape their caves, pouncing through the air, hunting for prey so they can send them to the destination where prayers lay. This is a daily fear living where i live
but on December 31st its the only time where its a promised flat line when the countdown meets its deadline, so that's why I wait it out, don’t sleep alone until i’m accompanied by the zebra of silence.
When she came into my life, she made me feel whole.
So whole that our love created a zebra of its own that guarded us through the night. Our love was so strong we slept through the annual running of predators that i usually wait for silence for until i can relax.
When she left she took the sound of silence that existed before her. Now every night I'm accompanied by the sounds of the memories we shared. Even though those sounds aren’t as vicious as a bullet’s roar in the middle of the night,
it is just as crippling to this wounded zebra heart of mine that stripes are black and blue now instead of black and white.
The sounds that used to scare me are the ones i take comfort in cause it beats the sounds of her voice occasionally creeping into my conscious. With the sound of predators roaming at night it reminds me of a time that i was alone and had no problem keeping that way.
A time where depression never knew me on a first name basis.
A time where I'm just a zebra waiting for another zebra to go to sleep.

Traumedy,
The Black man's new mode of coping.
It sounds like stand up but it looks like gasping, clawing, or fighting.
I have friend whose fighting handicapped just to be understood, his opponent is a fusion of normality and vulnerability they are just heads on the monster of toxic masculinity.
My friend reaches for help but vulnerable responds that's a hand shake.
My friend makes jokes about death but normal said morbid humor is  the new black.
My friend cries for help but traumedy translated that as a knock knock joke and what he gets in return is LMAOs.
When my friend steps outside he gives life to the world while on the inside he's increasingly contemplating about giving his life back to the world.
He thinks his life is nothing but a punchline waiting for a flatline.
He's in pain but he never directly says it.
What he say is: what do you call a hilarious pun about suicide? A real wrist splitter
What he say is: what do this party and my brother have in common? they're both dead
I want to go and hug him and tell him it's ok grieve, I want to tell him that I hear him.
It's normal not to be ok but sometimes toxic masculinity is so strong that it strings my mouth closed, rendering me useless, like a voodoo doll.
But here's an open letter to the traumedian in him,
dear tramua it doesn't take search light to find the star he's bound to be, his personality stands out like a figure in the spotlight no matter how much darkness he's surrounded by like country skies.
I can clearly see the stars in him like a country sky.
He can be the next Robin Williams when he was the genie guy.
But Every time he stands up and do a stand up his traumedy constantly foreshadow his curtain call before he can get his big break.
To my friend who See's life only as a light polluted sky at night,
your life has more to offer than a end of a joke or a flatline.

Labelist theory states:
If a person is labeled something they are not and they don't agree with, one day they will stop defending themselves and be exactly what they are accused of being.

I'm being called an arsonist by a jury of my peers. By a jury of people who hang with me but now listening to someone who solely wants to see me dangling. I find myself constantly trying to protect my image like copyrights. But no matter the protection plan I enstate, I always find my name somewhere being defaced. I guess respect, loyalty and friendship wasn't enough to protect something like that. If it is then why am I catching charges. Why am I catching OJ treatment when yall say I will be missed like Ladanian on the chargers. Why is action only taken when the news say to take someone out like Michael Vick and not when a player asks you to look at the real problem like Colin Kaepernick. Maybe I'm not the one on trial, maybe this trial was a trial and error to see if this jury was a jury of my peers in the first place. And if this is the case then this a mistrial because I won't allow people who say they will miss me like Ladanian to the chargers be the same ones to take everything I worked with to another area code and call it by the same name. You can foot me the Bills because this is a OJ glove that I see fit. I am arsonist to the ties we had because that same rope won't be my nuse. I set fire to all your expectations of me because I won't watch my name get defaced like your personal property anymore. I accept your label for me with open arms because there is some borderline truth behind every sterotype, rumor, or lie because I have found mine.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

I love hard
I love like a boxing glove loves connecting with a jaw, or my jaw.
Or My love loves connecting with me sometimes that she forgets to wear the gloves,
or get a referee,
or let me know that we are playing this game.
I only know to play along when I hear the bell ring,
or if there's a ringing in my ear from her love taps and she's in that love me stance.
That stance the world ALWAYS misinterprets
The world says that stance means I'm the enemy
But they don't understand our language
In our language that means she's about to give love to my heart
like CPR, so open up and get ready for a pounding.
So open up and take my heart that is yours,
nothing about our love is Taxidermy
it is as true as purple is for royalty
or purple for my skin every time you show your love for me.
This is not abuse, she's not a tornado and i'm not a Kansas home
She's only testing my foundation
Separating the weak parts from the strong
That's normal right?
For the first time i'm doing something normal right?
Thats why we tell our sons to Man up right?! we punch our sons but kiss our daughters.
I'm just doing what i'm told:
Risk it for the biscuit
Do what boxers do, sway with the punches, don't resist
Others say what if this is abuse
I say love is like any drug, and what's a drug without its side effects.
When we lose consciousness together at night, that high is worth all the burning sensation retaliation words I build up in the back of my throat like ****.
When we are alone and I can finally inject her in my system heroine, the track marks she leaves after loving me is the best part cause even when she is gone I can look down at the marks and feel the love all over again.
My love is the only drug I need, it hits hard but....

Thats the way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist, its all fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

I'm the one
I'm who you show your parents
I'm not who you tell friends
I'm safe choice
I'm the rebound
I'm the medicine for confidence
I'm below average
I'm Igor
I'm below average
I'm "some day"
I'm below average
I'm "not in a million years"
I'm talented-
But not enough to look athletic
I'm "you look like you're in the band"
I'm too short to be athlete
I'm black-
But I'm not the black you see in movies.
I'm "you know what I mean?"
I'm that guy,
somebody you used to know
but not somebody worthy of a song
I'm a place holder
I'm bare minimum
I'm the perfect shape on your personality search-
But I'm not the right height
But I'm not the right shade
But I'm not the right time
I'm not the right Greek organization
I'm what you looking for
But I'm not the one

When you said you loved me only my left eye cried. When we together, my left side only knew love. When we were together my left side was the one you layed on. When you whispered your words of affection in my ear the left ear was always the receiver. When I was clinching your existence on a nightly basis my left arm was always on the bottom. Because my right arm was always the shield. The shield at night, the shield during the day, my shield for you, my sheild against you. The reason my right eye didn't cry too, because it's used to pain from you. My right side was both your offensive target and your defense mechanism . My right side knows what a knife in the back feels like because of your hippocracy and your hands. My right side knows things that my left side don't want to believe. Know how many times I use my right side as a bulletproof vest to danger, to the world, to you and then still be your soft side when she decided to take off the gloves. When you told me you loved me, my left side cried not because it loves you too, but for the first time it experienced pain. Pain that was only reserved for the right side. Pain that we both agreed that the left side shouldn't be exposed to like child watching their parents divorce. Unlike my right side, the left side's pain can't be healed with an ice pack, or aloe Vera, or even a good meal. When you told me you loved me was the day I became ambidextrous. The day my right and left side saw eye to eye.

When I tell my friend you have a Resting ***** Face. What I mean to say is your face is your bulletproof vest that these one shot guys are scared to shoot their shot at. What I mean is I don't have to worry about you being caught in the teeth of some sharply dressed shark who is looking for his next meal. What I mean is the guys who are scared to break their streaks with girls they meet in a snap will rethink their next words before asking you to chat. I don't tell you have resting ***** face to bring you down a peg. I tell you this because the next wood block boy who tries to talk to you see's what I see. A intelligent young lady who won't be swept away by good looks and false momentum. A brick wall screen stopping any defender whose chasing down her future. I know if I see you with any proposition like guy I don't have to be on auto correct or grammar check him,  because if he's made it this far then he saw the beauty that’s underneath your skin and your Resting ***** Face.

Love is a person of its own. It lives and dies just like us. My love for my last had a full life, and when that love departed for my life I thought I  was done lovin. I thought for the life that love had I finally won. It was the first love whose life didn't feel taken like a kidnapping, the first love that didn't die premeditatedly, the first love that didn't feel like self destruction or suicide. I thought I was done with lovin when that love died but then I met you. When I met you i felt a feeling of deja vu. When I met you i had feeling of both preparedness yet excitement like riding the same roller coaster a 2nd time.  When I met you i felt like it was a 2nd chance I didn't know I wanted until got to know you. When I met you i asked myself are you ready? Are you ready to raise another love life. Are you ready to go through the teenage love again? Are you ready to be reassurance when her love insurance not giving you full coverage? Are you ready to throw logic and reason away again only trust in Love? Are you ready for the days that all is right but love can change that in conversation? Are you ready for when all is wrong and love is the last thing you have to save the day? Are you ready? After the smiles, sweat, regret, ups, and downs I still answer Yes.

Saints and sinners step up to me. Saint or dinner which one you'll be. Make your plea to get through the gates if you're a sinner your ride comes at 8.

You probably already know my name so I'll it short. To be honest father I feel I'm hell bound, I haven't went to church since a week after buying a suit for it. My bible is a ****** because I never opened it like it's a limited edition print. But I do know three verses. One to keep away the people ringing my doorbell at 10 am in the morning while I'm snoring. One to keep away my family when they start coming at my neck like mosquitoes when trying to talk about the blood shed on the cross. The last is for my sanity to clarify to my body that I'm not the black devil you see. I'm not the black devil society says I am. I'm not a devil or a demon. I'm lost. Father I died a lost boy. I found myself between in the crossroads of good and evil but chose option c. Father this isn't a excuse for failing the conquest of salvation but just a background on my starting point. Father what is the key to heaven. Is through the message or the messenger. Father did I fail you, father is this my first save point. Father will take me as I am. Will you reset me. Or will you erase me.

I can't comprehend death. I couldn't comprehend death even when death date questions had a answer. I couldn't comprehend death even when the signs are flashing like the last numbers on a shot clock expiring. I couldn't comprehend death even when it was in my mailbox. Like I had the option to accept it. Like I had the option to return it. I wish death was like a letter that I could tell the mailman wrong city, wrong address, wrong recipient. Just wrong. I wish death didn't have a spam folder. Collecting names of people I didn't know until it's gets a name marked as important in my email of life. Death feels like a penaltys not called, like how dare you resume life without everyone in the room, how dare you eat food without saying grace. Death feels like a slap from a friend. Never expected, unguarded, not protected, and reality never the same. I wish death died. I wish death was like a Timmy Turner episode, like at the end if the episode everything will go back to normal. Instead death likes to play deception. Likes to replace the old with the new and tell you nothing has changed. Like my McDonald's down the street always had a kiosk. Like gas prices has always been 3 dollars. Like aunt vib was always light skin. I wish i never have to wait for the next backstabber, the next email, the next letter. I wish death was dead.

I've been down for so long being up feels foreign.  I've been down so long I made my way to my ancestors and acquainted with them. I've been down so long I think I need a decompression chamber because my lungs are not used to breathing freely, so used to breathing synthetically. breathe the breathes permitted at the permitted times, but now breathe freely. breathe like my ancestors wanted me too. breathe because i want to. i want to breathe. and now i can.

I have dog senses when it comes to people's feelings. I'm very aware of people possessing pain around me. when I talk to someone resignation in pain I yield to them. because my senses can tell me the direction and the quantity of pain but never why. I never know if this person is the pain receiver or the pain sender, but sometimes pain's weight is so heavy I break to it and let my young pup heart attend to it like a vet. when identifying what pain this person posses I either prepare to fetch a solution or my number for them because maybe they just need to adopt me into their life but if they are a pain sender, I find an exit. I know how our commercials end and I'd rather choose to be Iams dog than another SPCA survivor.

There was a reason I unfriended you in November of 2016, but my heart won't let the rest of my body do what your president does so well like hate, discriminate, let ignorance drive. with the click of this accept I am far from forgiving who you choose to align yourself with. I just do what people of your party does so well like forget. like, forget the humans has rights no matter what shade of skin you are, or where your place of birth is. I'll just forget the all lives matter posts to my black lives matter post. I'll just forget........

My freshman year is a reclamation. a reclamation of how I can't play both patient and doctor. My freshman year was supposed to be the second chance that I thought my dad wanted, my freshman year was where the excuses were not accepted anymore by professors nor by me. All of freshman year I lived with my dad. I tell people, its to save money, it's convenient, it's bonding, while in all honesty living with my dad has been the time I feel the farthest from him, maybe cause we started with a crash start, maybe I just happened just like childhood just like my life. my freshman year was a reclamation, a reclamation that if I'm 5 or 50 miles away from home, my mom has me like gravity. when I come back home it may take some time for her gravitational pull to set in but doesn't take a semester, a school year, a high school, a life, for her to be there, to stay there and to be my foundation, my reclamation.

To the person who stole my bike, you got more than just a pair of wheels or your next thrill. you have a semester at your feet. you have a transportative transformed version of me at your disposal. just like me it's rugged, beat up, and loyal to whomever it has a hand commands it, but not loyal enough where it stays in the owner's possession. to the thief, treat it better than I did, treat it often, cause if you're getting the same ride I got out of it, it will either break down on you or **** you but just like me, it won't die. just sleep. to the thief, I wish you stole my bike and got hit when you biked in the street. to the thief, take care of it better than I did.

I present to you the undefeated, reining, defending competitors hailing from anywhere human life resides. These competitors have no specific expected gender just courage, heart, and art. It takes a lot courage to do what they do day in and day out, weekly or monthly then go back to being the everyday people. The everyday people that walks with us and around us. We know these people very well. Hell we are those people.
The people that put their life, love, hate, business, and memories on the stage. what ever can be done to human being more than likely has been talked about on this stage.
That's what makes them, them, that's what makes us, us, and that's what makes anyone who has graced a stage or a microphone a spoken word artist.
We as spoken word artists put our lives, our history, our passionate interest to words and later to ears of our friends, associates or complete strangers and sometimes allow those same ones to give our narratives, our practices, our life choices scores.
Some people will argue that soldiers have a harder job than us but soldiers takes the orders and choose weather or not to follow them, while we the spoken word artist make the orders, coordinate the orders, execute them and protect ourselves when the time is up.
That's why we say "don't be nice poet". Because we speak the truth, we speak our truth. And the truth hurts, yeah the truth sets you free, free of a job, a connection, a life but we still "go in poet" anyway.
No matter how defeated we feel after every line we write we're undefeated, as long as respect is shown to this stage, we're defending, and every day we survive our trauma to tell we're reining champions. This is what makes me, you, us the reining, undefeated and defending Spoken Word Artist.

I have a little brother, a lot of people tell me he act just like me, everything I do he wants to do it too.
Every girlfriend I had, was his girlfriend too.
Every word I say he'll say it too.
Even the titles I give to people he'll give them it too, even his father. I love that he wants to be me so badly, more than badly than me.
I don't want him to inherit the pains of having short legs but big sports aspirations.
I don't want him have short temper in his bloodline.
I want him to inherit my vocabulary but not my definitions in words like father.
I don't want him to inherit the taste of regret when saying words like father. This is a poem letting them know why I never called him dad.

1. You're not my dad.
2. You were my step dad.
3. You were fitting everyone's definition of father too well.
4. I'm not going to call you father either
4. You didn't buy me the nice shoes that he did for school.
5. But you drove to school though.
5. You came to my basketball games though
5. You came to my football games.
6. I wanted the best of both worlds. Yeah my dad was the Hannah Montana star on the weekends he was staged for but all of age 6 you were there for. Age 6 you was the Miley Cyrus amongst us that I saw everyday.
7. I stopped calling you step dad when I realized step dad was dad's in second place.
8. You told me you loved me before he did.
8. Was the age, I realized your name meant more than a title father held.
9. I can't call you dad because I associated father for monster under the bed. Not man fighting my monsters.
10. You're not my dad, you're you and I appreciate that.

Animated means to bring to life.
Animation is evolving.
Animation went from being point A and point B to finally involving the journey.
Animation has evolved to being three dimensional. Seeing more than just right and wrong but now seeing reason. So when my significant others attempt to shoot me down by telling me I'm too animated, I smile.
I smile because I have evolved.
I smile because I'm finally bringing you to life. You brought me into your life only, not to feel lonely anymore. All the problems that won't here between us in the past are finally arising as you are growing muscles on your backbone that only See's right and wrong.
Is it that the problems aren't transparent anymore or are your bones finally catching something in between them. Anyway you break down the definition of Me, you will always get that I am alive. Even the Greek breakdown of the word animate still say I'm soulful even more than your soul food.
It's not my fault when you want to send problems my way I change the environment we're dueling in like a Yu-Gi-Oh field spell card. You want me to get real like bullets but even then shots I avoid them like the matrix.
I can get real like the Hokages death and still show honor in our battles like I'm Goku. Animation shouldn't be the reason why our relationship takes a step back. That shows me that you were dead from the start and I should of started my prologue somewhere else.

I am team pencil, because just like in life I make mistakes. Being human is alot of qualities and characteristics but to me it can be easily decoded as trial and error. For some people that trial and error can be as small as "I got to choose what to eat for breakfast but the error was not having anything to drink". Being a leader is being human but your level of impact on your decisions are much more costly. Sometimes costly in the literal since or sometimes costly as you did not mean for that to happen. Being a leader is automatically writing in pen which I hate, but knowing that someone out there will see exactly what I wrote and how I wrote it is what makes me both proud and anxious. Anxious that someone will make my same mistakes. Proud someone will learn from my mistakes. Anxious that my every move is being watched and proud that I know that I'm going to be a inspiration to someone, Thus is why I chose to be a leader, this is why I sometimes write in pen.

I'm Rigor mortis
But provoked, move like viper
I'm mouse trap's real form

When my gf fell in love with me, she loved that I was different. She loved how I was always there for her in a flash like a cheetah, chill like a sloth, but protective like a lion. The day finally came when she asked me what is my spirit animal. I told her I'm a chameleon, constantly blending into my surroundings, only eating the prey that's weaker than me that passes by. She saids I'm white washed, I need to be more hyena, more aggressive, aware, in touch with the wild, black. I want to tell her, isn't that why you loved me in the first place. That I'm just not another dog in a pack. Another dog whose defenseless when singled out. Another dog whose bark and bite can only be used in a pack. Another dog who searches blindly for his food. Another dog that you're used to, but I am not a dog, I'm don't see just black and white. I'm a chameleon, I'm not blind, I'm vigilant but never searching for trouble but when trouble finds me I have a cobra for tounge and a ability to blend in where I don't belong like no other. Instead spiting out the venom I've been brewing in my brain for 3 minutes I say, ok.

What happens when you become the mediocre you told her to never to settle for. No matter the metamorphosis you undergo it never meets her expectations, she read my manual and saw in the future. She tells me I'm capable of being all that she's looking for. That's when I shut down on the inside because everyday the agenda changes and she'll​ never give home work, work sheets, nor practice test to instill the teachings from the other days, only just exams. You know the big challenges that supposedly made up of everything you learn, and if you having a bad day and malfunction before you can test your might, it just looks like you've done nothing. I perform fine on a daily basis but when I'm given test I don't consent to  the collections of 1's and 0's freeze which leads failure like cutting the red wire. I'm confused if she's performing the job of a teacher or hacker with this slow but swift buffer over flow attack. Every passing moment of me living with failure that file contains a MP4 of me in that moment making her mad like when Google chrome is unresponsive , a MP3 file of her telling me what I did that repeats over, and over and, over again. A gif of my heart breaking down to it's last megabytes, and a gig of her love lost due to my corruption. She's not the problem though, she's the spectator, and sometimes the controller. I just want to make her happy, make her buy in to me like how we did when I was glowing with change not keep her down with chains. My next step is to rip out my mother board and tell her program me, cause whatever my programming is, it isn't up to par with her. It's crazy what we as robots do keep what's real.

Who do you call upon when the monster is yourself. I see him every day like a stain on the mirror. Destroying the image that I have of myself, excluding myself from others because I know the monster inside likes Innocence of others. Remind me of what I was before it started morphing with me involuntarily like I was lapis lazuli.  Jasper I didn't ask for this, Making me into this thing of what I never wanted to be, powerful, bigger, inhumane. People criticize the big red machine Kane, for coping out and not staying true to form, trading his mask and gloves for suits and ties. Yeah that wasn't the best choice economically nor He won't doing that for popularity but simply to take control of the monster that posse him. I envy Kane cause he can leave his monster in the ring while mine maniacally sings, it sings so much birds that I never notice the disaster like lyrics it's imprinting in my brain like mumble rap, and the worst part is, that sometimes I accept. That's why I need you to pick up the phone and call somebody please, call ghost busters, call the aqua team, call the priest, call the police, or call my ex. Call anybody that knows how to deal with monsters, or create them.

Bully, you are no gender. Your objective is to always dismember. you
are a scar, and drive that knife into my arm. but i always seem to be
strong, no matter the odds or participant you seem to draw i'm always
walking tall.

Bully why do you do what you do. trying to control my friends like
voodoo and take their lives with a combat knife but you don't hold the
knife they do...  so thats why i say you smell like doodoo and you
won't dare put me through the things that they been through. thats
case i'm a strong emo

Bully you label people wit names that are sexist, rascit, and
sometimes full of bullish, but you won't ever change because evolve
wit age. saying the same things but in a different way, all in all it
still hurts the same.

Bully you try to disquise yourself as a friend in a form of a weak
link hurting the group from the inside. giving emo a bad name. and the
worst of it all you hide very well but you can't sell something that
you never had. meaning you can't fool me cause i see right through
you with your innocent lenes, and your non muscular figure, you mess
wit me i'll show you the real raff of a true ninja. but i'm censored so everyone know that i meant N*a.

Bully i'ma let you know that i am a
strong emo you will never enter nor hurt me though. and will never
take another life or influence another person to commit suicide nor
pull another razor against the arms of the weak and blind. cause as
long as i am alive. i will always come back for the dead and the ones
who has survived to stand against everything that you pride.

Bully you are loosing victims by the day and not because they are dead
but because they're getting strong like me. so pretty soon we will win
the fight in society and finally gain equality like the great martin
luther king always wanted.

BULLY DEAD SOMEDAY IN 2014

This, this is what love looks like. Rival hoods coming together to fight a common enemy like its world war 2 again. We've finally stopped the violence against each other but now we have to fight the system before the system, systematically destroy us. I never knew how similar our times were until now. Its like history is in repeat but just in a different time zone. All Lives matters hashtags looks like hiding the modern day Holocaust code name police brutality.  We the black race are the Jews, the government is Adolf ******, and the police are the ****'s. We need outside interference cause we, the black race is screaming stop the violence but the police don't here us over the routine bullet showers. This final solution is cleaning, cleaning our faces out of this country. It's crazy how it seems that this country is Indian giving to me. They needed us to brighten the future, work their tanks, and harvest their crops now trying to get rid of us so they can lavish in our ancestors hard work. Every one whose a minority needs to be on edge cause one by one their pushing our kind off the ledge and yes maybe that wasn't your family member dead last week but what are you going to do when it is. I've seen too many mistakes being made and honestly I wanna know what is your families reaction when your hearts eyes are mistaken for targets. When your open palms and Twitter fingers are mistaken for trigger fingers. When you obey all of the officer's commands like a good boy and he has a movie flashback and decides to replay the ending to Lacey. Don't answer now let your family do it for you on your local news . Back in 2014 your case would of meant something but now you're just another name on a poster that steadfast people will look at and make post about, then move on about their day. Successful marches where no one dies, candlelight vigil's with the entire community presence, and cops reporting other crooked cops, that is what love looks like. And now more than ever, we need to love again.

I never thought it'll take desperation for me to say this, you're far from religion but I hide you like I'm a atheist. No matter how far I run you'll still chase me like a annoying little brother who thinks we're playing tag. If only I'd I played trust fall with you more, but instead I use my flash bang body to blind you but even then it didn't work cause you're this cake was baked in. I want you to know it was never my intentions to hurt only for you to learn a lesson, like the time you let me run away when I was 7 then I returned back in 8 minutes, I did that 9 times that back to back, back until I found out that I can't survive without you and if I only had 10 days to live I want them all to be with you. On day 1 give me instructions on how to survive until the day i die like how I was 1. Day 2 teach me how dress myself like I'm 2 again so you don't have to do it for the rest of my days. Day 3 watch all the reruns of great shows like we did when I 3. Day 4 remove my brother away from my clutches like you did when I was 4 when I was getting ready for my 1st day of school. Day 5 teach me about the light on the other side like you did when I was 5. Day 6 don't morn death but celebrate a life like we did when I was 6. Day 7 take me and see my dad one last time for a long time like you did when I was 7. Day 8 let me attempt to cook you breakfast and tell me that it was great like you did when I was 8. Day 9 prepare for the storm but somehow find someway to be home like we did when I was 9. Day  10 lets ride this sickness out and as I slip into a comma like sleep hear me say I love you like I did when I was 10 because I did,doing, and still do love you.

Do you get as heartbroken as I do when ever you look in your closet. Do you feel like theirs a piece of me with you whenever you wear my clothes as I do. Do you find yourself arguing with the shirts coming up with great comeback then forgetting they weren't me as I do. On the days when life feels like world war z, do you wear my bomb shelter like clothing to protect yourself from the bombs away that the kids today fire away heading your way. when the battle is over it stays the same embrace like my hugs it comes with no loosen up setting like me, Is that why you take it off because it stays true to its ways and you. Do you get jealous when you see your property being walked upon by the enemy, the neutrals, and the people inbetween basically everyone but the ally. Do you find yourself breaking down in conversations whenever you talk about certain clothes that don't together. Do I pop in your head when you break down? All these questions aren't really meant for you but I'm happy that you would at least entertain them like the designs on the shirts I once had like you.

The palace I will never enter again holds a near dear place in my soul. I will never lay foot finger or breath in that place but I can't say the same for it. See you can take a person put of jail but you can't jail out of this person. See that place was my jail. We moved on up to the east side after what felt like a lifetime sentence is now nothing but a glitch in a computer base full of excellency. Even though it was so long ago I still feel this place in his breath, in his movements. He talk like he's a new man but this place is engraved in him like writing on a trophy. The memories in that place is engraved in me on his weapons of mass destruction. I would of taken any time out or jail sentences then to fight another war, I have learned from Vietnam that I don't want to mess your kind. I feel 4 by 4 when the Fire rains 6 by 6, acid water floods takes up the whole 12 foot floor i'm jumping on anything that's near he went immortal on me when he gaining 2nd wind. Im running to stay alive, in this catastrophe you caused when you tried to put fear in a growing man, are you trying play god? you're just determined to do anything when we're both in that room I wish that same determination you showed on the battle field reflected your efforts outside of it cause if so I wouldn't be here writing this.

How come I have death watching me like a overprotective mother. Gracing everything I do with its presence. Your essence is so sweet you make some fall asleep forever voluntarily. I remember a time when I always looking for your call back but instead of sending me to voicemail you sent me to your receptionist. I never meant to have a conversation with her I just wanted you to do your job. After playing hid and seek with you for over a week now I no longer leave messages asking you to take my life away nor look forward to you picking up the phone like calls to dead beat dads. I just look forward to leading her clues to the next dates. I just look forward to the leaving the calls at 7:50 and saying pick you up at 8's. After a month of living life, living with her, I can honestly say life is good until you got jealous like ex's who never got over their past. Death, were you my ex because the things I said in the past were just that, the past. You can check your call log I stopped being forwarded to you a long time ago. Death, can you call me back I'm scared of what you will do next. Death, why isn't she at your front desk anymore. Death I smelled you on her breath like beer last night. Death please do not do your job now. Death why do you always sneak up on me when I least expect it. I guess that's what I get with playing with death cause at the end he always.

She said she loves me
I said why then remembered
Its April Fool's Day

Possibility
Has no boundaries so can't
Is not an answer

Dear Pressure,

I want to blame for you all the times when I want to write but my pencil never works. I want to blame you for the times when I stumble over my words when I'm trying to talk to a female but won't shut up as soon as I'm friend zoned. I want to blame you every time I stand out in a crowd then hide. I want to blame you when you make her cry. who is you, and why me. My remote must not be working because i can't seem to skip pass the scene where you're chasing me like a never ending nightmare back in middle school. see you live inside of me and others, like a parasite. you peak your head when we have a chance to matter Then, drive us insane and at the end of the scene some of us are injured beyond repair. You can't be created nor destroyed like matter we just have to live with you. So no matter how much medicine we take to try to suppress you, or ignore fact that you're there, we all know that your just one cancer that's can never be surgically removed.

Honestly tell me what did you see because in your own words you said we were all playing this one big game, but I don't remember plugging up my remote and saying I was in. I do remember saying when is this going to end, I do remember the battle scars and the suicide attempts. I seem to remember alot about things that happened half a decade ago like it was yesterday but i don't seem to remember me ever saying hey, make me the big pun to all of your heart attacks, make me the tupac target to all the bullets you shoot. School has been looking like a warzone, my so called friends the comrades, but when the atomic bully bomb dropped they all was gone. Some said the oppressors had too much effort, we're lacking men, but what I want to know is when did Thompson middle school ever turn into nuketown, when did going to school ever felt like playing survival mode on Zombies. I'm the only survivor but I'm not looking for a cure, nor a problem just a way out. see i never asked for any of that but i guess everyone can read minds and say whats on mine. So i'm sorry to anyone who I may concern I expected you to already have known, because I'm so used to being in a world full of Xaviers but even there i'm not accepted or normal.

Falling in love is more like living in a apocalypse . Love is dead and you was the disease that brought me there. Just like Falling is not a volunteerary action being zombified isn't either. When you broke out of your containment you infected my world and instead of looking for my friends I looked for you. When I saw you, all I wanted was you. Every limb, ligament, and being of you. The more I'm with you the more I change. I'm losing my mind. Day 7, My mind is gone, wait when did I start writing a apocalypse diary. Wait am I talking about falling in love or about becoming one of the walking dead. Day 8 they're both about the same but as long as I got you, my love, my disease I don't care. Day 9, you granted me your full disease the kiss of death. Day 10 I'm fully submerged in you, the sickness, I am you, I've finally landed from my fall to love that was inspired by you but yet I look left and right and you're not in site, you're actually flying high in the sky like I used to be. Day 11, you're no longer circling me from above like my halo. I blame everybody that said you were my vulture cause they never you were frail solution. Day 12 until eternity, I circle the world looking for your reasons or you, but like answers to a custom made quiz on google no results were ever found.

attiude exrpess
the train to success have tracks
what side are you on.

Starting now ima do this evaluation because right now I feel so non related and played with, to her I'm like candy that comes with alot of pieces and she chooses when she want me like now or laters but I am gum sweaty. I am sorry there is only one of me next time you bring more than 25 cents. Well I was her hubba bubble bf but ig this piece has lost its flavor and all that I'm good for is sticking to the bottom and catch all the trash that comes my way. Is that the reason why I'm still holding on to her, because if life is a trash can I'm on side of it somewhere fly fishing for love. I thought you was a bass, a the catch of the a lifetime but instead you turnt out to be a catfish. The only reason I haven't set you free back to sea because you was my first trophy but like all trophies you have to get shelved one day. Don't worry I will be one the shelf to just like a  injured football play but I didn't break my neck or ribs, I got concussion or some head injury because something must have gone wrong for me to let my heart get fractured again. The doctor must be tired of seeing my face, hearing the same copied and paste story but with a new title and about a new face. Then at the end of the day he does the same operation so I can go back out to the sea and start fresh again, find my next mistake and start to fish.

I feel like I’ve been mugged, and your weapons, are your words. They penetrate deep into me, like a ******, with 1 foot bullets. Why **** when you have everything in snap, and when you clap, you have that, and everyone at your knees, ready to please. So I asketh of thee, what is your reasoning?Why have me travel farther up the string, when YOU know, there’s nothing at the end of it? This poem, why should I even finish it, if you already caught, the drift of it? But Ima keep the title because best friends are opportunist too, now I have no clue, when to make the next move, but I promised myself if I wait for too long I better get the practicing on the thot walk because that’s the gay move. And I ain’t no gay dude just a good guy making all the wrong moves. So trust me when I say, I need you to guide my every move, cause currently I’m taking baby steps in a marathon race heading to the moon. So if you need a friend now, I’ll be your friend down, all the way to a pen pal. But don’t forget about, the forbidden intentions, that friend, ship, more than a friendship that I am quick wit to rid of, for you Because Best Friends are Opportunist Too.

step 1: Of course cheat on her, and tell her you didn't do it.
step 2: Text the girl you cheated on her with but instead of putting her real name in there put in there number 1, main chick, anything that lets you know that's your girlfriend.
step 3: Have make up *** with the girl you're cheating on and yell out the girl name you're cheating on her with.
step 4: Receive a text from, "main chick" and say its work, when its midnight on a Saturday.
step 5: Come back around 7 in the morning  with your phone already unlocked, and receive a text from main chick saying great ***.
step 6: When she approaches you and ask you who's your main chick say its her, the moment she pull out the phone run.
step 7: Do step one again, but do it harder, the cheating and the lie-ing
step 8: Read and write a whole poem about how you're sorry and how you was wrong while she is in the crowd, then when you're finished look directly at her and say i'm sorry then say the wrong name again.
step 9: Finally get broken up with.
step 10: Don't take advice from people with failed relationships, like me
step 11: **** her.

No matter what happens this person is always my biggest supporter, most important, and the best female there is .i'll tell you who it is but you have to take a guess after every sentence starting now.My life would mean nothing without this independent woman. On a daily basis you'll see a sign of struggle that would reside but in a instant she'll cover it up with her over confident stride. The only time she wanted help is when she was looking for directions, Jamie Foxx was right she got her own. Hate fumes would never resignate to the people who most deserve it but she do **** them with kindness. Everyday I chill in my blessed home props need to go to her for all of her hard work. Rest days were always her blessed days because thats when she finally chill out and smile. Mother i shouldn't need a day to explain why you and you're kind are great in so many ways. Mother, Happy Mother's Day.

I can't help to stare whenever she is near, she catches my eye like an annoying, fly. I want her dearly but my friends are telling me that I'm not seeing clearly. They tell me, I'll take a bullet for her but she won't break a nail for me, I'm constantly denying it saying no she won't set me free. They try breaking it down in scenarios saying I don't need nobody, but yet they are in love head over heels. They ask me why do I persist, why do I continue to chase her if I know how its gonna end. Well its the same reason why you choose to date a friend. It's for that L.O.V.E. I get a high off of complements and hugs but the only people who will know this is at reading and hearing distance of these words. Its not that I think she's the perfect person or the hottest one but its the fact that I've been a sucker for love. When I write stuff like this I might as well replace my ink for blood. Cause every time I wrote in blue or black it resemble something my heart wasn't but look at now, I might as well get the draining of my blood now because my heart no longer holds that color . So my friends ask me again will I still chase the wicked witch of the west who gives me a uprising from my south every time I see her full moons. That answer is not yet determined but trust me I'll pick my poison soon.