It was the end of the day.
the sun was saying its final goodbyes.
All the men were going home to a nice dinner
not me, I went home to a deafening silence.
As I prepared for tomorrow, you messaged me,
asking me how I was doing and how much my muscles ached.
As the conversation continued, I felt the fatigue of the day wash away as we talked into the night.
and when we said our final goodnights, I felt ready to face tomorrow.

The dark prince drinks from the broken glass his tongue splintered with lies
His tears flowing freely skin rotten and falling
He is devoid of life
One king may fall and only one may rise
****** is rage and rage is slaughter
My prince belongs to the slaughter
Because only the slaughter may cry

His heart beats red and his putrid mind sees only the same thing
Many lives are lost in death and many more are made
All things must draw parallel only in death is the prince most Alive
He moves his hands in wide growing arcs wanting to embrace the world
His rage is slaughter
His limbs fall from place hanging listlessly in void and in vain
A single tear falls from the prince
He rises from his throne of nothing wanting to become something because he too is man

He roams in nothing wanting to see everything his eyes portray a new emotion
My prince roams heartlessly spreading his rage and I follow him
His tears of slaughter shift into this new emotion
My prince is dark but his heart has grown light
He open his lips
He was born to cry

Suffering rage sorrow and negativity have built his foundation
His entire life belongs to the slaughter
Sorrow returns to rage as they were never different
The God who wantonly killed suddenly wanted to die

i’m sitting scrolling through Instagram taking a 5 minute brain break from my grad class work
about urban education policy which breaks my heart
because education policy and initiatives in urban school districts don’t take into account
poverty
unsafe living conditions
mom working 3 jobs just to put food on the table and keep the lights on
violence
drugs
all of which are exacerbated by the pandemic we’re in right now

all i need is 5 minutes to escape from that
but as i scroll
all i can see is
******
death
sadness
rage

another unarmed back man was murdered by white cops
another cry of “i can’t breathe”
another child died of starvation
another plane crashed
another trans woman of color was murdered
another kid committed suicide
another animal was shot so someone could have bacon for breakfast
another black man was harassed by a white woman while birdwatching in the park
another woman was beaten by her husband while quarantined together

all i need is 5 minutes
to escape the
******
death
sadness
rage
that’s everywhere

i’m just tired
everything i’ve seen today has broken my heart
everything i saw yesterday broke my heart
and the day before that
and the day before that
and the day before that

how can i help make change if i’m so **** tired all the time?

Little lily buds look at the sun
they smile and bloom
the morning begins so beautiful.

I worry about yesterday and tomorrow
keep missing out on now.

The more I see,
less I want to say
no longer want to stay.

The days get hotter and hotter
this budding cruel summer
I cannot enjoy the simple flowers
this bed has become my world.

I am tired when I sleep
fatigued awake
I need fresh oxygen to breathe
I've become living bone
all alone.

This all feels so awfully familiar.
Like coming Out of a vapor made,
From a witch's brew.
This stupor holds me tight.
O let me sing the hymns I once knew,
Knowing that Time is long gone.
Memory serves only those,
That choose to remember,
Perfection.

I cant sleep
no more
my brain is too

awake,
alert,
aware,

scared,
terrified

its
survival mode

I wish I had your eyes. I really do. I wish I could see all the colors that you seem too. The vibrancy that I've been missing for so many years...

He looked up. Same walls. Always the same. Gray paint, chipping away. Water damaged brickwork. He glanced upward. Same energy efficient lights adorning the same stained and faded ceiling tiles.

One thirty am.

I wish I had your mouth, I really do. Wish I could string words together like you can. I wish I could find the rhythm that your heart beats too.

He looked up at the furniture placed carelessly around the room. It's sparse. The room feels almost empty. A bed tucked away in the corner, half hidden in shadow. The sheets are wrinkled. He hasn't bothered washing them in a while. He's been sleeping on the couch. The cushions are getting threadbare. They were already worse for wear, over a year ago. He remembered what it felt like to drag it inside. How he almost pulled a tendon trying to get it through the door.

I wish I could fly away from here, like you did. Cut all my ties, burn all my bridges. I wish I could embrace the unpredictability like you have.

He looked up at the walls.

I wish I could clean all the filth off my hands. You always did have such impeccable hands.

He looked up at the walls. Same cracks, same cracks. Looked over at the can of paint. It'd been there since he'd put it there. He'd left it there the week before he'd moved in. He'd been meaning to touch up a few spots.

I wish I could rid my mind of these festering insects. I wish, I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Always with the buzzing static filling up the endless quiet, never quite masking it. Always with the static, ringing in his ears. It was always quiet, so very quiet.

I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

It's so quiet. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't think straight. He looked up at the walls. Sixteen strings, dangling down, one fragile spine impaled in a back that it won't fit.

I wish I could see through your eyes, hear through your ears.

It's so quiet, he'd never hear a thing again. Sixteen candles blown out in the breeze. One untouched ice cube left in a glass on the coffee table, so mundane, so unconcerned with the sun soaking in through the window.

I wish I could be as hauntingly beautiful as a raven perched on a telephone pole in mid November.  

He looked up at the walls. His hopelessly outnumbered little diatribe barely holding its own against the cascade of static, swelling, thriving in the void left behind by the silence. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.

If only I could enter your mind. Swim through your deprived notions, your sensations of pleasure you derive from nothing good at all. Things we all keep hidden.

He looked up at the printer. It's sitting on an orange crate in the corner opposite the bed. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

If I could wish at all, I'd wish for this eventuality. It's harrowing, you know. Wishing for things. Knowing that all hope has so carelessly been squandered on things you couldn't care less about.

He'd left a soda can sitting on his desk. He picked it up. It's still a little sticky.

I wish I could be as free as can be. I want to be free. I want to be as free as a bird. Not a sacrifice, please.

it is tiring.

watching their faces smashed
against the windows smiling
almost aggressively laughing

having to not hurt everyone
as i trip about corners and words
and deadly sentences
and yet still get there
get to “friendship”

standing in an
unending burst
of my own energy
just to calm theirs

pulling up my
****** muscles to
create a paper thin emotion
a semblance of contentment
just a semblance

cascading upon me
a pool of thoughts and opinions
i never asked for

i am tired.

of them.

Take a deep breath
Don't let yourself fret
Now close your eyes
And let there be no lies.

Be calm, but let yourself loose
It is fine, do not confuse.
He is ready to lend you his ear
He was never far, but always near.

I know you feel very heavy,
You've always had a boulder to carry.
But worry not oh dear darling
He will lift it, without you knowing.

But, consider it for tonight.
The skies are covering one's sight
You know, you have walked this far.
There is no moon, there is no star.

You must be really tired,
So are we, your child.
Let us hold hands, let us be silent.
Let's seek his aid, we aren't too resilient.