I’m already gone
Don’t try and catch me
I’m a free bird
Trying to find my way
Don’t stop me now
Or I’ll never fly again

In the recesses of my intellect
I possess all the changing seasons
The fallen leaves
Yesterdays memories
The gold mine of ignorance and naivety
The idea that out there in the expanse exists a far off potential
A potential I could grasp
A potential that was attainable despite the perils of my upbringing  
The fragility of those days gone by
Have become myths and stories in my own mind
Held together with the weary tape of an abused mentality
Due to the inertia and desire to remember how life was...

I'm mesmerized by what happened to the potentiality of our lives
And how it became comprised by complacency
Lazily dreamers egos age like worn clothes
Enclosed with institutionalized ethos where growth begins and ends with the inerrancy and arrogance of the ghetto

To our fears we could easily succumb
Or try our hardest them to overcome;
Choose to let them rule us and stagnate
Or use them to ourselves motivate.
For when we overcome our fears only
Can we be all we could possibly be.

Strange tides
as shifting sands clutch my ankles
     I am home again
     in a sea of change.
The world shakes, expands
and rolls on invisible tracks through space
as I am pulled
     Apart and breathless
Under full moons hidden in shadow.
What remains, left unsheltered
is the smallest nugget,
     polished gold.
I burn fast and melt
into nooks and crannies
    of belonging
while all around whispers
of leaves fall in sweet longing
onto moss and soil, countless
ancestors' songs
     of mourning,
I am wilted and tall
I fold and reach skyward
I am endless and small
a chaotic mass
of synchronized heartbeats,
     a shell of swollen light
ensconced by sheets of skin
I no longer fathom
outside looking in
I watch idly
as creation flows
against a backdrop
of antique lamps,
worn tapestries
alone in time
     surrounded
     by infinite
     potential
A touch, a glance,
I leap into the dance
and I'm carried on a swell
     of change
In dreams, I believe.

Accept no limits
And we'll shine like the diamonds
That our tied hands mine

Fragile and frozen
Like a sculpture
Made out of
Thin ice.

The depths beneath,
Are dark and cold,
And will lull you
Into a trickster's sleep.

One after the other,
They dare to break the ice
Of her skin,
And she looks at them
With pitch black eyes.

And they cannot tell
If it is fiery destruction,
Or the cold embrace of the unknown
That sits behind her iris's,
But either way,
Knees start to shake,
And teeth start to clatter.

Grasping at their throats,
Hands grabbing at flesh,
She stares at the foolish nature of them,
And blinks.

There is no action,
No voice.

Turning from the airy
Ice cold presence,
They take a stab at the statuesque
Figure of stone
And she screams.

It's shrill
And suddenly she turns,
And claws are tearing at their eyes.

Dark eyes bleeding black.

She bites into
Their throats,
Ripping part A
From part B.

Scarred knuckles crack
Onto jaws
And she
Loses it.

Upon the thought of loss,
She is neither fragile or frozen.

I used to be white too
until I realized that if I didn’t
reclaim my indigenous
evolutionary potential
I would be doomed