-someone pray for my family to start moving forward. -past regrets has my family still walking backwards. -no gatherings, reunions pass due, no nothin’ -stay in contact mainly on Facebook or group texts.
-I never wanted this -members can’t get past previous trauma that’s keeping them ******. -most mindset are like “I don’t rock nor want to bother them.” -man F**k that -ish -let’s stick together, we still have time to heal over our egos, stop trying to quit.
-family wishing to redo their prime past for a better paradise in mind. -living now is the “fear.” -since nobody wants to say it, I’ll express this overbearing feelings. -the fact my grandma still cooped up in the house feeling worthless is dangerous cause she feels left out or no one wants to visit her due to “un-build relationships”. -feeling unfit.
-most members from the Chi-Town calling me like I’m the man now. -because they can’t get along nor grow together, so i’m their problem solver now. -sad seeing the family drown, so I pick the pen up to write the words down. -sometimes it’s embarrassing writing these words down -but someone has to expose these generational curse truths now.
i wish you good luck and a cup of tea and maybe that you’d think of me in the morning between that chicago breeze you’ve become so fond of. i wish you warmth and a warm pastry in hopes that you stay sweet after 9am classes and glasses that refuse to sit still on your nose. i wish you love and a bowl of soup so that you’d give me the inside scoop on the perils of higher education and one of those end of the day smiles. but for now i wish you rest and glass of milk.
air at a standstill sounds echoing and breathing still as melancholy brushes my shoulders and settles inside my chest this is someone else’s life my life is the stench of marijuana on the weekends we’re sitting closer than needed on massive couches and each smiles is a rush because i’m these moments there’s just us and happiness has made its home in our flesh
you know when you write love poems about a made up person
i’m unplugging the month old box fan for the first time since i moved in september 22nd the first day of fall and im excited i was made for the slight breeze of the morning and the warmth right before the setting sun but like i said i’m unplugging the month old box fan since i took it out of its box when i moved into mine august 29th a midwestern summers peak when i truck back into the alley of a save a lot and the empty room i moved into it doesn’t really matter though cause it’s two in the morning of the morning after i shoved the first box fan i ever bought myself under the last bed my mother would ever force upon me and i’m getting upset about the rate at which the world keeps turning so maybe i’m sad because i haven’t seen my friends since i saw my broken box fan i had for four high school summers and didn’t have to purchase with my own barista money and i miss the way we’d understand the nonsense and sit too close together but it doesn’t matter cause yesterday way september 22nd. the first day of fall and i was excited and i am excited because i’m unplugging that month old box fan that drowns the quiet in an empty room alone at 2 in the morning
sitting at the edge of the water where the moonlight floats across an unstable surface. tonight we’re all glowing black, and blue, and maybe purple too just sitting at the edge of teal colored turbulence and rusted barriers. bass pumping through the concrete to the patter of wind borne waves. forces beyond our grasp become visible on these last summer nights and we have our sights set on becoming someone in this city. there’s a boat sailing across this sea and there’s me in the middle of you and maybe i can understand why they say to stop and smell the roses red and the see the ocean blue as we sit on the edge of the water: moonlight just skimming the surface.
this literally was such a gorgeous night and i felt so deeply
two red pills to cure a cold and the chill of fall wading through the apartment pants go on one leg at a time and it’s easier if you ignore the jeans that mean you have a shift later two slices of toast like grandma used to make and maybe some tea with too much sugar down three flights of stairs to go see the train you take leave the station above you
‘I ain’t tired!’ yells the homeless, old man begging for change On the green line station me and my friends get off at to buy coffee He turns and looks at us ‘I ain’t tired!’ yells the toothless, old man on that cold winter night As we preemptively pull out our phones and look down at the ground A defense mechanism ‘I ain’t tired!’ yells the hobbling, old man as we pass him by Without making eye contact or even a sympathetic nod If only I had cash on me ‘I ain’t tired!’ repeats the mentally ill, old man while we descend The stairs down onto the pavement and into Chinatown The snow continues falling ‘I ain’t tired!’ echoes the starving, old man His voice ringing in my ears long since we’d left ear shot The only time I had the courage to glance at him He was a mess of wires and bone and cloth and paint and white hair Older than the city I had just begun to explore and call home Permanently on that train station yelling ‘I ain’t tired!’ ‘I ain’t tired!’ ‘I ain’t tired!’