Jan 2016
it's a terrible feeling
when you pace back and forth down a street with no lamplights
the cars on the highways aren't moving or stuck in traffic
they levitate home as its 8:30
and it's time for quiet
it's time for peace
however I hear the music erupting from the radios
"A mans been shot"
and the world goes silent
"A black mans been shot"
and for 3 minutes I hear pens and needles hitting the curb of the road
the homeless man accompanying my transparent presence whispers the words
"it's only a game of cat and mouse"
and
"no one is dead. no one is alive."
and
"what are we truly when we're running from both?"
and the clock starts to tick
but no longer for him
and my eyes stare at a locked phone screen that displays the numbers
the last few digits
all his life succumbed to 8:30
how precious a moment
how raw is history at a time such as
the streets are still quiet
now the radios play a quiet melody something like
"he was only a ****"
maybe even
"he was holding a gun"
perhaps
"his life wasn't worth it"
and it's upsetting knowing things are going to end
that you have to watch them grind to a stop and can't change it
because from birth all your life ever was
was a break peddle slowly bringing you to a crash you could only anticipate
you pulled all the right cards, took every class, and pushed down on that break
but you're the one that died
"A mans been shot"
it's 8:31
"A black mans been shot"
it's starting to rain
the droplets cover skyscrapers that reached a higher peak in their life then you ever would
it's starting to rain again
this time the clouds are my eyes
and the shock has passed
I see a cat hide in a box in an alley
the homeless man stays put and let's the water fill his mouth
everyone and everything is cold
the paper from today with the headline "America the Land of the Free"
makes my stomach twist
the black ink bleeds down the paper till the words are undetectable
till the memory of life fades and it's moments like these where I slip into a waking coma where my body moves further past buildings but my minds stopped working when the news smashed into the forefront of my brain
the yellow lights in windows turn off
everyone's going to sleep
it's 8:32
in one minute the noise will emit from bars and night clubs like a parade to commemorate life
"It could have been us so we must celebrate"
but it wasn't going to be us
we haven't been preparing ourself for this moment
we weren't born in handcuffs
the night lights will soon begin
and the city will come alive "once more"
only to break at the sound of another tragedy
but the arrows pointing me to tired neighborhoods tell me I'm where I'm suppose to be
funny how the blood still stains the street even with the rain
how the bullet left a dent on the sidewalk where he looked up at the stars
I lay down on that very sidewalk
I look at the stars
I remember there are none and close my eyes to envision a world filled with stars
it's 8:33
"A black mans been shot.
In other news...
we're all still alive."
when you pace back and forth down a street with no lamplights
the cars on the highways aren't moving or stuck in traffic
they levitate home as its 8:30
and it's time for quiet
it's time for peace
however I hear the music erupting from the radios
"A mans been shot"
and the world goes silent
"A black mans been shot"
and for 3 minutes I hear pens and needles hitting the curb of the road
the homeless man accompanying my transparent presence whispers the words
"it's only a game of cat and mouse"
and
"no one is dead. no one is alive."
and
"what are we truly when we're running from both?"
and the clock starts to tick
but no longer for him
and my eyes stare at a locked phone screen that displays the numbers
the last few digits
all his life succumbed to 8:30
how precious a moment
how raw is history at a time such as
the streets are still quiet
now the radios play a quiet melody something like
"he was only a ****"
maybe even
"he was holding a gun"
perhaps
"his life wasn't worth it"
and it's upsetting knowing things are going to end
that you have to watch them grind to a stop and can't change it
because from birth all your life ever was
was a break peddle slowly bringing you to a crash you could only anticipate
you pulled all the right cards, took every class, and pushed down on that break
but you're the one that died
"A mans been shot"
it's 8:31
"A black mans been shot"
it's starting to rain
the droplets cover skyscrapers that reached a higher peak in their life then you ever would
it's starting to rain again
this time the clouds are my eyes
and the shock has passed
I see a cat hide in a box in an alley
the homeless man stays put and let's the water fill his mouth
everyone and everything is cold
the paper from today with the headline "America the Land of the Free"
makes my stomach twist
the black ink bleeds down the paper till the words are undetectable
till the memory of life fades and it's moments like these where I slip into a waking coma where my body moves further past buildings but my minds stopped working when the news smashed into the forefront of my brain
the yellow lights in windows turn off
everyone's going to sleep
it's 8:32
in one minute the noise will emit from bars and night clubs like a parade to commemorate life
"It could have been us so we must celebrate"
but it wasn't going to be us
we haven't been preparing ourself for this moment
we weren't born in handcuffs
the night lights will soon begin
and the city will come alive "once more"
only to break at the sound of another tragedy
but the arrows pointing me to tired neighborhoods tell me I'm where I'm suppose to be
funny how the blood still stains the street even with the rain
how the bullet left a dent on the sidewalk where he looked up at the stars
I lay down on that very sidewalk
I look at the stars
I remember there are none and close my eyes to envision a world filled with stars
it's 8:33
"A black mans been shot.
In other news...
we're all still alive."
