I can't put religion and race into my words and I don't know how to add politics to my poetry and that kind of blows because its so powerful. I guess I just don't know how yet, just like
I don't know a lot of things.
I have learned a lot about myself in the last three months, though.
I've learned that no matter how many comfortable pillows there are in a house, I will always choose to sleep on the crusty stale pillows that you place and adjust at the edges of your couch because at least that reminds me of the nights I've spent at your house.
When we grew tired, it became a dart game of blame to see who would fall asleep faster.
No, no, you said.
"She sleeps in here, with me.
You; you sleep out there."
And all of a sudden, I became a dog.
Not even a dog he wanted. I became the dog of his firstborn child who, when he turned thirteen, said "Dad, I am a teenager now, and this is what I want."
And you looked at him and said, "Yeah. I can do that for you."
Just like the same way you looked at me and said, "Yeah. I can do that for you."
And now, while you're in there, sleeping with her,
I'm the dog taking a **** in the middle of your living room in the middle of the night
And I mean it.