i want to ask you,
why is the orange peeling?
which is the pulp?
how will the zest be
grated?

and what essence, once distilled,
will i find?


juice runs down my chin,
and i am sticky.

my tongue,  numb and tingly, together.

i want to spit it out.
i want to devour it whole.

Who Am I?

Well,
I must be
that ******,
the one
in the black hoodie
***** sweatpants
and an uncombed eye,
that's always wooly
scratchy,
bloodshot
with searching for
my stash spot,
that ******
in your peripherals
that you keep your eye on
because he's
not
in a polo
looking nice,
talking
"well-spoken"
and
not
a threat
to your beautiful
lily-white daughter.


Because I grew up
fixing myself
ramen noodles
and
lifting the welcome mat
after school,
I must also be
that ******
whose father wasn't
in the same house
until he was age 13,
and when I tell you that,
you weren't expecting it
because "you're not a racist."
but
you weren't surprised.


You see,
I must be
that ******,
a stand-in
for all other *******.
I must be that ******
who represents
all *******,
not because you are racist,
but because I'm the only
******
you've met
who doesn't talk like
dis, y'know whatmsayin,
and i talk like
this, do you know what I'm saying?
I must be that ******.

In order for you
to feel okay
being around me
I must be that ******
who goes to college
does the right
thing
the white thing
and gets a job
a nice little house,
a nice black wife
with a nice
new england
clear
dialect,
(what I was
trying to get at
earlier
is that ****** dialects,
by their mere intonation,
denote stupidity,
right?)
and doesn't say a word
when his white friends
make ****** jokes
or talk in a ****** dialect
mocking some Aunt Jemima
they heard at Walmart.

But,
I also must be that ******
who doesn't step out of line
and say
"WHY IS IT
THAT IN EVERY SINGLE
ENGLISH CLASS
WE READ
ONLY
TWO
BLACK AUTHORS
A SEMESTER,
AND THAT'S
ENOUGH,
JUST ENOUGH
TO KEEP THE
****** PARENTS
HAPPY."

And If I happen to be a ******,
I,
by all means,
must not be that ******
who had a white girlfriend,
and
this girlfriend
after dating
a ******,
tried to date a white guy
she liked,
and when she told him
that she had dated,
loved,
and yes,
******
a ******,
he had said back:
"I can't believe
you ****** a ******."

Then again,
I must be that ******
with the big swinging ****
able to destroy
a white girl's ******
with its pulverizing
power.

And,
please,
If I am going to be a ******
don't be the one
who writes a poem
about
having to be
that ******,
because those
kinds of *******
are being
over-sensitive,
those dashiki-wearing-*******
who think
"Da white man dis."
and "Da white man dat."

Because
I am not one of those *******
descended from the first people on earth,
your brother,

not in the ****** way,

but the familial,
species way.

Why am I even writing
this, ****** isn't a main operative
word anymore.

Search and find "******"
and
replace with
"Black Guy." That way it becomes
a joke.

I want to go back
To when I was a child
And I didn’t know what it meant
To be self conscious

When beautiful was synonymous
To how nice a person was to you

When I used to fit in the smallest of places
Like in the cupboard under the kitchen sink

I never imagined it was anything other than
Underneath the kitchen sink

But I felt safe there
During bouts of my father’s fury

Like a mouse in a jar
When the dog’s tongue could still lick its cheek
Close enough to understand
The severity of teeth

In my living room
there is a hole in the floor
From a house fire
Just big enough for me to fit into
If I took the shape of a ball

I know I could never fill the hole in your chest

But my heart
Is a bomb shelter
Big enough for the both of us

And if beauty really can be synonymous with nice
Then call me gorgeous
‘Cause it’s all I got

No

Call me, Gorgeous
Why don’t you
You should have me on speed dial by now

I mean
I can bullet proof vest your lonely
And if you tell me I am handsome
I’ll probably fall in love with you

I mean
I am too awkward and lunky to fit anywhere nowadays
Other than a hole in a floor
When cigarette ash crop circled my fears back to life
And I realized that being a man means

Really

You have no place to hide

Unless

It’s in a bomb shelter
I built in the back of my heart

Probably

We could be safe there

I know,
your dreams,
they're calling out your name,
luring you in,
away from this small town.

I know,
your choice,
it's ringing in my ears,
taking control,
just like I feared.

so when you go,
and leave this town,
as you watch this skyline,
burn to the ground,
when you return..

I wont be here,
not in this house,
I will be searching,
searching for you,
when will I find you?

When you lay your head down,
Do you see me as you close your eyes?
Hear my voice,
As you drift off into slumber?
Am I your knight,
Your prince charming pursuing your rescue?
Take your leap from the tower,
I will be there to catch you.
Fight for you,
Even though you'd never ask

I watched you turn into

A punching bag

Until the sand worked to settle in pit of your stomach

It’s the kind of love so heavy and jagged now

Like a kidney stone that you thought would never pass

Until it passes

Painful and ******

And you think

“How could such a small thing like that

Hurt me so badly”

And you finally understand forgiveness

Like the pinstripe scars on your back

You have to feel the metal leave you

Before you can let anything go

And you have to remind yourself

Someone is always going to love you

Despite your broken record

Skipping at the spot where

Your song hits its chorus

You have to remind yourself

That eventually

The thin metal fibers will

Find the next groove

And then you can groove

Into the beat breakin’ happy

Of your constantly confused smile

And settle your doubts

Into the arms of someone

Who doesn’t have all the answers

But knows exactly when to hold you

You have to remind yourself

How often the right thing to say

Is sitting between a bitten lip

And deep breath

And finally a smile

A laugh

A tear

Don’t offer answers to the questions you never wanted to be asked

Don’t tan the leather

Of the thickest parts of your skin

Even punching bags break

Don’t hang your head to watch

How your feet pace towards the end

The end is always gonna be there

And remember

Someone

Is always going to love you

Maybe it was weird that I didn’t move my hand

When it rested against yours

Or that I didn’t move my leg when our knees touched

Or that when we slept facing opposite directions

So we could share the same pillow

I pretended to be asleep when my lips touched your forehead

Just so we could be close a minute longer

I know I cry in my sleep

But you don’t have the same dreams I do

And you don’t have that awkward belief

That all people fit like puzzles if you press hard enough

What the hell do you think hugs are?

Or holding hands is?

I know I can’t accidentally fall into you

And sure

maybe it’s weird that I rub my socks into the carpet

With the sole purpose of shocking you

But how else do you make sparks fly?

I know that my life’s story is an open book I tell so well

My pages are shameless

And my words are honest

And yeah

I know I stare at your mouth when you speak

It’s just that

Eye contact freaks me out

And I’m sorry I spaced out while you were talking

It’s just that I was staring at your lips

And I suddenly wanted to kiss you

I know I have no filter

And am practiced in the art of bad timing

And poor explanations

But we’re only human

We only want simple things

Like to be needed by other humans

Go ahead

Need me like a parasite

I’ve already got so much excess baggage

The weight of your monkey on my back

Might as well be an anchor

Keeping me next to you

There should be dents in your memory foam by now

Pretty lady

There are dents in my cheeks from all the smiling you cause me

And I’m pretty sure you could light a match

From the heat in my face

So I am sorry if I can get a little creepy

It just means I like you

is it wrong
that those
in love
make me
want to *****
lying on my back?
so that the
900 calorie
barbecue cheeseburger
that i ate for dinner
kills me in a manner
other than
clogging my
already corroded arteries

once you're alone
it seems as if
everyone is together
and it makes you
wonder, who
was writing
sick, twisted
poetry
about you and
your lover,
holding hands
and staring into
each others eyes,
as if irises
hold all of the
answers and
promises
to a beautiful
life

i thought of you earlier
and the way that you rip my breath
right out of my lungs, up through my chest,
then my throat, and finally out of my mouth
and into your own

and as you breathe me in
i know that one taste is all you need
and you can read me like i'm some kind of
page ripped out of a well loved book

you've got shards of my soul
locked up within your own
and i can't help but look
into the depths of the bottomless pits
that reside heavy set in your face
with a relentless stare that i won't soon break

wordless communication

because we're all just animals
and the words that fall out of our mouths
haphazardly onto the laps of one another,
like heavy bricks falling from the top floor of a building,
are simply clattering noise to break the silence
that most of us cannot endure