She grew up on the walls
She grew up in the city
Against all odds she survived
The life that she was born into
She controls the alleyways
She is the orphan of understanding
King Jr. raised her
She is the essence of everything
That is street

She is the leader of a movement
That is ruthlessly and viciously her
She is undeniably cultured
That is the way that she thrives
She thrives off of opinions
She designed to push the pavement to the limits
Malcolm X praised her
She is the essence of everything
That is judged

She is the poster child of the ignorance
Of those who refuse to see
She is distinguished for her beliefs
She is set apart by her nature
That makes her so strong
She is the tie that binds it all
Differentiation never phased her
She is the essence of everything
That is individuality

She is forever infamous
She is running out of time
She is expunged from the city
She is excluded from the pavement
She is expelled from the walls
She is extracted from the alleyways
She is excommunicated from the people
She is exiled from their compassion
She is the unfairly judged individuality of the street

Tie-dye shirt and all black sweats.
Can hippies have depression, too?
Or should we all just be much too entranced by the magic of burning grass to understand what it feels like to live in a world of dying thoughts, or thoughts of dying.
I apologize, I can’t quite get my thoughts together.
Forgive, me.

It must be the drugs.

These broken dreams can break the promises of life.
The promises that broke the wall and built the fence that still can never ever be climbed, that still can never ever be conquered...

and even though, they are just fences, we can never seem to stumble our way over them because we won’t dare to stumble near them...

because we can’t ever even see them...

I’m thinking...it must be the drugs...

See, we can’t jump,
no, no,
we can’t get off the ground,
no,
we can’t even run,
we can’t take steps,
we can’t even move,
we can’t sit still...

but we go everywhere...

...and we go nowhere...

At the same time...?

It’s gotta be the drugs.

cause see, we’re stuck in this time,
and this time...
when it goes by...
I pray...
maybe we’ll go with it...ya know...?

or maybe we’ll go against it...

or maybe we’ll do both...

...it seems, to me...
like it’s gotta be the drugs, eh?

It must be the fault of all the flamboyant Conceptions Created this Chaos, this Desolate Destruction of Emotions that are Ever so Evolving into Freedom! Freedom!
oh, we Give it all away to God for it is He that Hath the Heart to Heal, but, see,
I am not I...I can never be I...so I...Just Jot with no Joy...

so I just jot with no joy...

I am no king of kings...

I am no lord of lords...

I am only me...


but I’m guessing
that can only be
because of the drugs, right?

The blockbuster sequel
To The Handmaid's Tale,
Will star one lonely,
But very safe male,
In,
The Handjobber's Tale.
No LGBTQ?,
No human, animal, child, politician, religious person, flora, fauna, fish, bird or insect will be in this movie,
But him.