So many years, so many hours

trampled on like a bed of flowers

Will provide food and water

clothing and shelter

Servitude I say

helter skelter

Trapped in a box, four walls and a hole

aching to get out, release my soul

Let me out! Let me out!

is this what hell is all about

So many years, so many hours

Trampled on like a bed of flowers

I can feel the walls closing in. I have never seen a more blackened

darkness. A silence so deep I can hear the mice and the cockroaches

running alone the floor. The guards come to get me and bring me to the

long walk. Iʼm walking the White Mile and I can see the horrified faces of

the others. I was framed, I didnʼt do anything wrong. The door is getting

closer and closer. I try to stop in my tracks but these monsters wonʼt let me.

They keep pushing me towards that door. No matter how many times I

shout that Iʼm innocent it makes no difference. Iʼm just feet away from the

door now. One last chance. I stop and pivot and just as Iʼm about to take off

running and never look back. The one person I thought was on my side

grabs my arm. I canʼt believe it. Itʼs my own mother. Now sheʼs making me

go towards the door. I donʼt understand, she said it wouldnʼt be this bad.

She told me it would all be okay. The door is just an arms length away. Iʼm

only ten years old so why am I being treated like a mass murderer? I hear

the sadistically evil laugh coming from the doctor behind the door. Iʼm

getting the three lethal injections or as others may call it, the flu shot.

on july 13th, 2013: George Zimmerman
a florida native with a history of violence
was found not guilty for the ****** of unarmed 17 year old African American boy Trayvon Martin claiming self defense

on may 8th, 2012 African American, Marissa Alexander:
a florida native with no history of violence
was sentenced to 20 years in prison for discharging a warning shot out of self defense from the wrath of her abusive ex- husband

marissa,
i often wonder how you felt on july 13th when you heard the Trayvon Martin verdict
did you feel the heaviness of invisible shackles weighing your hands and feet down like you had stepped into the 1600s?
did you feel a surge of anger burn through your throat like i did for you?

did you ask yourself if you should’ve continued letting your husband play picasso on you?
Letting your body be his work of art as he splattered blotches of black and blue making a tie-dyed canvas out of you?
because the jury treated the bruises you wore as if they were the plague
saying beware of a black woman who protects herself
it takes 20 years of solitary confinement to cure her of this disease

marissa,
are you afraid of the skin of bullseyes your two children were born into
knowing that society will use them for target practice every day like they did for you?

can you not sleep at night out of fear anytime your child pulls a hood over his head
that he is marking himself as sacrifical lambs to our legal system?

did you tell your mother the next day to burn your babies black hoodies
because on July 13th it was made known
being black and wearing a hood means danger
that being black and wearing a hood means you have a hunger for ******
that being black and wearing a hood means you have cosigned to a persecution?
and yet…we all seem to forget the ones in white that fit the same description

marissa,
i hope you’re starting to see America has OCD
wanting to color within the same lines, with the same two colors
segregating black and white
neglecting to realize that blood and blood shed never bleed out in the same two colors
just look at the crime scenes of Trayvon Martin and your ex-husband

marissa,
from now on when you bite your tongue while eating
don’t spit the blood out
leave it, let it settle, then swallow
and let it be a reminder of all the trayvon martins, all the emmett tills, all the james birds, and all the little black boys who died for standing their ground like you tried to

marissa,
i know you feel like god abadoned you
as if he stabbed you into the back and sent you on a suicide mission
but please
know you are my symbol of hope
you are my hero
the woman i wish to emulate and be
you are the one i pray for at sunday night dinners while holding the one hand of my black mother and the other hand of my white father
hoping one day america can sing free at last and actually mean that
hoping one day america can be blended and still be considered alright
hoping america will stop painting pictures in only black and white

when they don’t love you back
and no poem, no movie, no book on this good earth makes you feel strong enough to walk away
you will stay.
dig your feet into the sand.
you bury them.
and wait for the tide to rise

you’ve tried it all before, haven’t you?
you’ve tried to be every person they ever loved, and they still don’t see you
so you think
maybe if you just yell a little louder, they’ll turn around and meet you halfway
you think maybe
maybe if you set yourself on fire they will pull you from the wreckage
giving anything for you not to turn to ashes
but it never works that way

you always thought heartbreak was hidden in silence
until he introduced you to the earth shattering symphonies made from the echoes of a dying heart and a soul’s last breath
you are alone but you will not leave
because you think the false idea of his company is better than not having any at all
so when he calls, you will answer
you will tuck your pain into your wallet
hide it into your back pocket
only to take it out when you want pay for one more night in his ghost presence

when he reaches across the table to hold your hand
you will notice his hands aren’t the soft memories of release you had once grown accustomed to
you will see how they’ve become cages and you are the entrapped songbird
writing melodies in hopes of discovering any trace of love left in him
but all you will find are broken and scratched records that don’t even get stuck on your favorite parts of the song
but you stay
and you can’t bring yourself to cover your ears
because some noise is better than none at all, right?

when he asks you over
you don’t want to but you will go
wearing his favorite outfit, his favorite perfume, straightening your hair because the curls were too much
you have found yourself a slave to an unwilling master
you will knock on his door and he won’t meet you at the top of the stairs like he used to
he won’t stand to embrace you when you walk in the room
you will sit in silence as you watch him work and convince yourself that this is exactly how it used to be…how it should be

when he asks if you want to stay the night
you will not answer
instead curl into a ball on the side of his bed you once called your own and try to find familiarity in what has become foreign territory
he will spill words down your throat that you will believe are remedies to your self hatred
you will breathe out “i miss you”
and he will tell you to stop saying that
you will mistake this for love

when morning comes you will find yourself hoping when he wakes and rolls over to see you sleeping
he will believe you are angelic, wake you with a kiss, and tell you he prefers to see your face bathed in the sunlight so he can admire every detail
but you know, he will not
you know, he likes hiding you in the cloaks of midnight where he can make your face look like anyone else’s but your own
and morning is just a reminder of the regret he chose you
because you are nothing but a cemetery to him
a place he goes to when he wants to reminisce over what is already dead

when they don’t love you back
and you can’t bring yourself to walk away
you will stay.
dig your feet into the sand
you bury them and wait for the tide to rise.
let an ocean of unrequited overtake your body.

a part of me drowned that night when you said you never loved me
i am still trying to learn how to resuscitate her and stop calling her murderer a past lover

tell me what keeps you awake at 2 am
whether it’s the girl who took the knife of her absence and stabbed it into your sternum
or the loneliness that swallows your skin

play the one song which releases the floodgates in your eyes
and let me listen to it over and over again
until i find which line makes your heart drop to your stomach

describe the story of your body to me
tell me of the invisible scars too
and with each detail you describe
i will make a map
so i know which road bumps to avoid
or which holy sites to fall to my knees and kiss the ground of

remember that
i wear a mask brimming with self confidence and an armor of words that are both easy to tear for they were thin like tissue to begin with
i am sensitive
taking to hurt the way a sponge absorbs water

do not hide me behind closed doors or keep me entrapped in bed sheets
when you walk past me, do not pull your hood over your head and avert your gaze
i need you to look at my eyes as if they illuminated the entire world
and kiss my lips as if they are what allow you to breathe

open the door.
bring me flowers.
because the only boy who did either was my 5th grade boyfriend

be willing to meet my family and friends
for they were the ones who created the marble statue whom you marvel at today

take note of how my heart is a reflection of myself
how she is too kind and will kiss the same man who tore her in two
so please do not say words which will make her wings flutter
if you are not ready to be the nest she flies to

let me know that me, as myself, i am enough
that i do not need to be a chameleon
dipping myself in new colors each day to please you

remember the little things about me
like how my first phrase i uttered was shut up to a man in an elevator or the delight i take in handwritten letters and mix CDs, or the significance of my first tattoo
because everything about you is being etched into the walls of mind
so that i can never forget

trace your fingers with a loving tenderness over my scars from the times i transformed my body into a crucifix
pinning my hands and feet onto a cross out of habit
thinking love was a word synoymous with self sacrifice

you must learn my language
know what zips my lips into silence
know the difference between when i want to give up versus when i will actually do so
and be there to hold me when the seams start to unravel

if you want me to love you
know that many have tried and failed
that people like me are not meant to be soft
if you want me to love you
know that to me
love is not a word you spit out of your mouth and juggle in your hands
you need to promise that our love won’t be like an hourglass
for my body has been disfgured enough from the times my chest turned inside out from the pang of abadonment
if you want me to love you
reaffirm my body is a kindgom, my heart is the treasure, and that i am your queen
paint pictures for me in what you do and say
telling me i am worthy to be loved, worthy to be kept, and worthy to stay

but if you really want me to fall in love with you
tell me what you see right before you close your eyes at night to fall asleep
and if you tell me it’s me
i will fall unfathomably further for you than i already have

Innocence was once
remembered and simply left
to breed and mutate.

I sit on this island                                                           ­                                                 I sit on this boat
             ill-equipped                                                     ­                                                   ill-equipped
 ­        How I got here?                                                            ­                                        How I got here?
             well... by ship                                                                                             ­     island trip...        
  
         I simply stare out                                                              ­                               I gaze upon the
                   upon the sea                                                              ­                            empty sea
             No ounce of hope                                                             ­                          All out of faith
                         left for me                                                               ­                     inside of me
          
                  I think of times                                                            ­                   I recall the time
                   away from land                                                             ­               earth so grand
                        My tears drop                                                             ­           Sobbing quietly
                         splash on sand                                                             ­        into my hand
          
                     Huh? What's that!?                                                           ­ Wait! Is it true!?
                                           could it be?                                            more than sea?
                                 Swimming, swimming                           Rowing, rowing
                                                          ­      hurriedly            steadfastly
                          ­              
                                                  ­                       SHIP!  LAND!
                                                           ­                    I'm free!
                                                           ­                         ...

I am the shadow you see when there is no light;

the footsteps behind you in the night.

I am the voice you hear when no ones around;

the scream when there is no sound.

I am the touch when all is numb;

the sharpened blade against your thumb.

I am the trickle of the crimson ooze;

the reminder of a thousand dues.

I am the past not nearly forgot;

here to turn your life to rot.

Come, come, awaken all true drunkards!
Pour the wine that is Life itself!
O cupbearer of the Eternal Wine,
Draw it now from Eternity’s Jar!
This wine doesn’t run down the throat
But it looses torrents of words!
Cupbearer, make my soul fragrant as musk,
This noble soul of mine that knows the Invisible!
Pour out the wine for the morning drinkers!
Pour them this subtle and priceless musk!
Pass it around to everyone in the assembly
In the cups of your blazing drunken eyes!
Pass a philter from your eyes to everyone else’s
In a way the mouth knows nothing of,
For this is the way cupbearers always offer
The holy and mysterious wine to lovers.
Hurry, the eyes of every atom in Creation
Are famished for this flaming-out of splendour!
Procure for yourself this fragrance of musk
And with it split open the breast of heaven!
The waves of the fragrance of this musk
Drive all Josephs out of their minds forever!