I had to watch this boy go from 8-26 with a full man in his chest in less a moments notice, he was so angry from the sudden unwanted growth upon his being. The growth started in his collar bone, spread to his elbows, and exploded through his cupped fist slammed through the dried wall. I have see a lot of anger in my life. I've see small dogs get so angry that we follow them around everyday, their tails that is, that a circle is what makes sense to chase their feeling around the room. The dictionary says there are a few different synonyms for anger, like indignation, rage, and my favorite piqué.... Now this is my favorite word because the definition of pique is to affect with sharp irritation and resentment; especially to the pride. The image this draws across my neurons in the dome of safety behind my eyes ;just  imagine a king standing strong, chest out, flexing his insecurities across his cheeks. These cheeks have seen little girls cry from all the mothers taken away in the daytime hours to feed their needs to be alive, torn hair out of tomorrow because it looked too promising with potential, and a smile with deception lining each tooth. This king was confident in his worth. Then I watched the king wake up from his dream with an anvil on his throat and Grenades in his shoulders, ready to blow on anything with the ***** to step, to only realize he is standing in a group home with bare walls around the meds on the table. The pique sleeping in the beast will stayed subdued, the meds are kicking in. This is the image I imagine, because as I live life with this human machine I have watched the state shuffle his chess pieces into Chinese checkered closets to make it through the weekend. Mondays bring another day of forgetting families that ruined mind sets, but the families still lay on heart strings still playing come home to me. You were not made for this life happening before your eyes, you were made for much more, like changing lives. And you have shape shifted mine. You have shown me what strength is, because I always thought strength was being able to lift the most baggage off hearts broken like glasses in a middle school mix up. I was wrong. Strength is mustering up the courage to step out of bed when the world screams to you no, and your mind is heavier than the world under your tongue that you have yet to tell of. We both know you can change a life, it's just hard with the restraints placed across your ability, I'm sorry. To be honest, I know he is a king with a heart made of palace, bones of gold, and a head made from broken crowns his family has never fixed.  he has directed more life night lights than staff members have told him stop. He will not stop with the directional force of an ocean in his footsteps. I have never told him that he can move mountains with his voice, lift reality with his left arm and a fist with the other to show the power that he believes he can't possess. Buddy, I know they have held you down for so long, and that you despise them for it. I believe with everyday of my ****** heart that one day, you will change the universe. Because with a king like you, there is always a revolution.

My life has been painted onto canvas
I am not a painting strewn through
Museum walls
Not yet
Black for the loss
Red for spilt blood
And blue and purple for bruises
Yellow struck up from
The bottom
Childhood memories
Sea foam green
For the waves carrying me onward
Watercolors
Built on messy strokes inside garage walls
And too much caffeine late at night
My purpose has not yet been decided
If I am to be
A landscape or a face
Or maybe an animal
But I am
Beautiful
I don’t hang inside
Museum walls
Not yet
But I am still,
Beautiful
As the painter and
The painting

I'm exposing you, I'm bigger than that, so I am over you. My payment for respect is far over due, and you know its true. Went from chasing you, to being used, my love for the game, left me confused. I ain't amused. Now that I know what its like to be you, I kinda hate me too. That promise, you can keep it. I'll hold on to The Secret. I been there, already seen it, now, I'm more interested in the scenic. The haters is anemic, don't even think they mean it. They just see a chance and mean-it. Between them, the gimmez and the gimmicks, everyone body is a mimics, getting more jealous by the minute.

The creaking and creeping sounds of the old, rotting house, hang in the background. The aged, hardwood floors; snap, crackle, and pop under the weight of my footsteps. The scent of burnt; cinnamon scented burnt candle wax, slighted tainted by the stench of cheap cigarette smoke lingers throughout the room spilling into the hallway.

The broken ceiling fan humming, as it rocks back and forth as if it will soon fall off of its axle.

The cigarette; still lite, hanging on the edge of the ash tray – smoke trails floating up towards the window, escaping as it’s pulled out of the window, dissipating off into the dark, cool, midnight air.

The alarming sounds of alley cats fighting; shrieks and high-pitch screams echo off in the distance. The loud hissing and screams suggest two cats, within close proximity to house, furiously fighting over freshly picked dinner scarps.

All starch in comparison to your disposition.

You wept that night, the tears pouring from your eyes, spilling into your tissue boxed; tucked closely beside you. Lip stick smeared *To be Continued

I left my shores in that fateful night,
my heart was torn in to pieces,
and blood rushed out, a red river
still I fought like an battle hardened soldier,

My old boat made of  seasoned wood was broken
in many places, lost my navigational aids
the sky was windy and overcast, the sun avoided my eyes
at dark nights, the lone star that loved you and me
and wanted us to unite, was covered with angry clouds
that wanted me to get lost in high seas
the storm that was brewing didn't daunt me
I set full sail and saw the island in my mind
listened only to your voice within me , firm and clear
you  are my rudder, light house, love song
Love, is the only light that's left for me
will I reach your abode against all odds?