I wanna scream.
And shout.
And let it all out.
But I can't.

Bronzer from neck down,
Diamonds on her neck, gold chains dragged by breeds.
Queen bee.
Mistaken, amiss, untrue champagne hair sprayed till shiny.
Glamorous eyes shine in the darkened nights.
To floral crop tops,
To flaunty knee-high shorts.
You wait hand on foot.
She demands.
Sunglasses perched up on her false nose, not even a dime pitched in for bills.
Her ****** struts catch eyes, but don’t bring any of them home.
Chewing on that gum,
Hundred dollar watch branded on her wrist.
Diva.
Bottles herself up, but not the children who need it most.
Lamborghini on point,
Lipstick in its place.
Rubs herself down with the most expensive lotion,
Checks her acrylic, high gloss nails.
Mascara filling, cheeks blushed, pearls on those ears.
Has the world in the palm of her white fair hands.
Crazy.
All of this, but can’t pay a house bill.

Running in ***** shorts in the cold, dark night,
Blasting music till the neighbors growl.
Smash my face into a bowl of cereal,
Wake up sweaty with my hair stuck to my face.
Drop that bass while the weather is still warm.
Laugh and choke while sipping on water,
Can I get a raincheck?
Watch late shows throwing popcorn in the air,
Watch you fall into a bottle of perfumes.
Criss-cross apple sauce in a hardware store,
But don't get it twisted.
Take long naps till the sun don't shine,
Are we there yet?

**** this.

Nothing has changed.
But everything is different.

What I always dreamt in my head,
white folks running and playing in the white snow.
Drinking ginger beer and talking about how lovely the weather is.
Baking pies every Sunday morning.
But for me, I have no advantage of that.
What is snow? I've never seen it. How does ginger beer taste, is it sweet n' bitter?
How's their weather? Our weather is musk and steamed.
What kind of pie, blueberry or cherry?
I get the rust bucket of it all.
We have no snow, no ginger beer, bland weather, and no pie.
Instead, I get bruises from the colonials.
From head ***** hair to ached feet, I'm bruised.
I would love to feel snow, sip on some ginger beer, feel different weathers, and eat pie every morning.
That'll be a gift.
Too bad they run us. We have no say.
We get dry sand, ***** water, hot weather, and no food every morning.
I'd rather deal with that then be bruised black and blue.

Ever have someone that you're so used to? Then you guys fall apart you try to move on... And it's just not the same as it used to be. You start to reminisce, on old times☁️

I'm kinda tired of having these reoccurring dreams about you and waking up and you're still not here.
what ever happened to predictability?
I'm torn between the two. Between what's wrong and what's right.
I was happier then.
Or was that me? Or am I now me?
Like holding water in your hand.
Would you go back to then? Just beginning then?
Would you?