I wear no sunglasses that Shield my
eyes from the realities
of this world
that put a Valencia filter over the
things that I see or a sensor
over the things that I hear.
I do not push the news stations
through a small strainer only
allowing the ”easy to
handle” stories to reach my
cup for me to consume.
I know that red is this world's favorite
black it's favorite oil paint,
and blue it's favorite watercolor.
the painting of our world has red
splattered across every
building and seeping out of every
black in every sidewalk crack, every
alleyway, and across
every, screaming, mouth,
and blue welling in every eye.
I know this, but I have ripped the tape
from my mouth, bandaged my
wrists, and wiped my eyes
I have become comfortable.
opening my mouth
Like pulling the trigger of a gun
Aimed at anyone trying to Paint those
colors back into my life
shooting their thoughts down making
pastel bullet holes so the light can
I have become too comfortable.
I only come to this realization when I
hear gunshots coming from a hand
who does not know what it is
when I hear seemingly Innocent
“Well, why does it even matter,
if you've given a blow-job before, what's the hesitation to doing it
“ Because I said no.”
“ But you've already done it, before.”
I've told you, I do not wear filtered
but sometimes I forget that people are
programmed with black paint on
their brushes ready to cover over
your mouth again.
I remember that as soon as I learned
to rip the tape from my mouth
I realize that I can't just watch them
bring the tape closer until they
push it over my lips
I have to scream, as soon as I see it,
Because that is what my mouth is for.
And I have to fight to keep it of,
because that is what my hands and
wrists are for.
And I have to look- not like the prey
trying to stay out of sight,
but like a warrior with eyes like
and a mouth...
like a gun.