The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

To the middle school English teachers
that simplified Shakespearean plays to the last syllable, feeling like the same dagger of odd epiphanies.

The distinct powdery paint stained floors, acrylic smudged tables and the coffee aroma by 09:03.
An art class educated by a poetic tongue, flicking through all art movements like he existed eloquently in each.

Our engineering & graphics teacher who simultaneously mothered us as her own from the isolated section of block D. In the background, a blackboard with  meticulously drawn site plans of the highest precision. Her shouts were just as sharp.

To my spontaneous IT teachers that taught me how to maneuver through binary dilemmas and store any distress in random access memory.

Or to the person who found my wallet with my ID and bank cards but had no idea where my cash disappeared to.

The aloof B15 bus driver constantly arriving before the last bell, especially on rainy pastel gray days.

The far too kind Mrs Sharon. I've never met you personally. However, your positive impact on my grandparent's life rolled both from their tongues and into my life.

Thank you.

It's in the struggle of achieving dreams where adversity introduces a man to himself.
Those are the same moments where you brawl with the inadequacies that plague you. The grotesque sight of failed expectations and debacles that burden your mental like a clogged bathtub.

I've met myself on many occasions in the heat of adversity.
Each man different than the last, because I rejected each mediocre version of myself and demanded more - better!
I have done this until there was no more to meet.

I can't tell you who I am, but for the first time in many moons...I have met the person I worked so hard to be and just for a brief moment, I can finally be content with who I am.

Last night I saw him after two weeks.
He was 9 shots deep,
patron making his breath hot and
heavy on my face when he hugged me hello.

I was cracking open a second beer
while he cut into the chicken breast.

He grabbed my arm and
placed it on the cutting board.
He pressed the knife to my flesh while I took a swig of beer.
He pulled the knife through my skin,
blood bubbling as he said:

"ah. you almost flinched."

He then took me into his mouth,
my blood making his lips and teeth momentarily stained ruby.

I held his head to my cheek and
kissed his neck while he crouched to my height.

I guess this was too tender a moment for him
because he pinned me against the wall and
pulled my hair so hard my feet ceased to touch the floor.

He kissed me with desire,
he kissed me in a way that almost made me flinch.

He kissed me but it didn't feel like a kiss.
He cut me and it felt like love.

If I had to anonymously write about being hogged by depression, my pens would run out of ink before I could finish.
While reading it, you might even conclude that the author finally succumbed to the morbid thoughts and machinations lurking around his overwrought mental. When in reality...

10 toes is what I still stand on.

Death and the ***** got a high exchange rate
How much marketing is put up for the hate
Its graffiti how the bullets are sprayed on us
Splattered on our T-shirts to reminisce but never do make it on any front page
The museums are filled with masterpieces painted from the bristles of our anguish
The harsh circumstances that make us selfish
If my blood turned into a currency
how much would you sell me out for?

Lethargic energies found on the corner street
Dreams devoured by their caustic cigar
Infatuated with not what to eat...
All the seek is the next bottle of liquor


The women selling mealies and vetkoeks
Hoping for at least, a penny
The kids are back from school but too hungry to entertain books
No wonder these kids grow to be as fatuous as Lenny