The Butterfly flew
And left a storm in its wake,
If only it knew.

Too long have I been a victim
A target of your judgement
As you whisper behind your hands
And laugh behind your Bibles

But you know naught of my life
You know nothing
Nothing of my burdens
Or the story that’s built me
So how do you sit and hate what you do not know
Does your ignorance blind you so?

Your audacious judgement to be cast
Upon anyone different from you
The way I dress, speak
The choices I make
They don’t measure up to your devices

Too long and too often have I fallen prey to those like you
For eons have I tried to fit into your Christian circles
But I have lived
I have sinned
I have borne your hate
And I have overcome
I no longer desire to be part of your hypocrisy
No longer long to be part your elite
Yet now you ask for my company
For I have become one of your charities
But I’m sorry you’re out of luck
Cause frankly I no longer give a

Your perception of me pre-existed, you saw black and you felt danger, you saw my skin and with it painted a personality from the prejudice of your mind.

You don’t know me, yet you assume that I am just like every other dark skinned man out there.

So that is why I feel angry when you cram yourself in the corner of elevators, if you could only realize I am the one who is truly backed into a corner, provoked by your ignorance, until I become what you painted me.

With your judging eyes, cautious smiles, and nervous actions you made me this way when in the beginning I was just me. Now after all you have done, and all I have done, I’m just trying to be me again.
I just want to be me.

"Not all who wander
are lost"
Yet still, I wonder
where am I
and where are we going?

But I know where I am
I'm in a library,
sipping a coffee
lost in my thoughts

Any of which range
from "what's for dinner?"
to "why am I here?"
Ranging from shallow
to deep.

My mind making
leap to leap.
Leaving me confused
and wondering,
Where am I
and where are we going?

If you could find my azule ink
In the gullets of lack-long sun fish:
You would find a young woman at shore always letting out the string. Yet, sun is bleaching the cloth, sand, wood, skin and I don't think we would recognize any of ourself by the end of it.

Insomnia
I wish so dearly that you could see my love for you
but it's stuck in my chest
and all I have to express this completion and warmth
that you give me
are symbols and sounds
triviality, symbols, sounds... Don't come close
To what is real, when you're near

The summer insects celebrate the coming
of seasons as I lay in my cot, and ponder
of how I hate the changing of weather
because It reminds me of how I'm dying
and I feel like a lonely magazine laying on a coffee table
in a deserted office, once all the tired peons have gone
to their restful homes
I sit, in darkness, immobile, yet waiting
for something unfathomable
I'm thinking
I wish so dearly that my love could see what I feel, but It's trapped in my chest
and these seasons passing drives me insane. I just remembered I'm dying.
Dying.
dying.
Sleep.