A woman on the
Street told me about how her
Boyfriends probably

******* a drag queen,
And they stole fifty dollars
From her. Wants advice.

"Remember you have
Yourself", I say; a rehearsed
Piece of half fiction.

She lights up something,
mysterious and inhales,
Then exhales and sighs.

Think for a second,
What would my mom say right now?
I try to start fire.

I can't tell you why
He holds your hand in public,
Ignores you at home

Helps his drag queen friend,
But leaves you in bed alone.
I don't know that much.

But these things tend to
Work themselves out in the end.
I have faith in that.

Not god, religion,
Choice, free will, karma, and such.
Just this natural

Push for balance and
The results I've seen so far.
I believe in this.

I don’t go places.
People find me amazing;
I’m mediocre.

I stay in most nights,
I have company, or try.
I have long mornings.

I watch Youtube and
play video games alone,
or sometimes online.

I love what I like,
critically, but shameless.
I can tell you this;

I am amazing,
God, I love my simple life,
and I do it well.

I wanted to die.
I want to hate you for this.
Beating a dead horse,

but you taught me love.
You taught me to be patient.
You taught  me to care.

To have empathy.
To be unconditional,
and unrequited.

To give hope away,
to wish the best for someone.
To turn a light on.

You left me behind.
If you are alone, I hope
you remember me.

Remember I care.
I still cared. I don't hold pain.
I hold these fragments,

and offer them to
something in the wind; asking,
"Can this be whole again?"

******* white people;
hide their racism behind
vapid "opinion".

******* white folks will
argue you can't argue with
results and numbers

because white people
can strip race from the issue
and swear it's "equal".

White people without
culture or identity,
strip it from others.

Call you naked as
they strut in stolen clothing.
Full of silicone.

**** with white people,
find out they know the struggle
by the article.

They can sweat big stuff,
but their racism is in
the cracks and seeping.

Disappointingly,
you can't trust white people for
****, not even me.

Not Bush, not Clinton,
Donald Trump, Bernie Sanders,
******* Macklemore,

Not Bill O'Reilly,
and not Jon Stewart, and not
viral feminists/

white feminism,
Taylor Swift's white sisterhood,
their artists, music,

writers, poetry,
actors, authors, painters and
sculptors and bloggers,
their politicians,
obviously, but also
their lawyers, doctors,
their engineers and
scientists and businesses,
economists or
pastors, preachers, religion,
programmers, products,
video games and novels;
They will let you down.

The rich or the poor,
it really doesn't matter.
They will let you down.

My mothers between
light skin and dark skin, blacker
than two of her kids.

My face is her face,
yet people ask if I am
adopted because

they don't see her here,
in the pigment of my skin.
Her love runs deeper.

Her conflict is mine,
her quest for satisfaction
frightens me closely,

like personally.
She breaks down and everyone
treats it as okay,

"Well that's just cookie."
Her family, her husband,
all call her crazy.

But her love runs deep.
I was looking for myself
here, at home. Christmas;

She says, "There are ten
people out there you don't know
who love you. At least."

I float away like
a paper lantern in night;
new fire inside me.

I am on the ground,
with my head up in the clouds.
I am crying now.

I am nothing now.
I am building something new.
I am still searching.

I seek ten people.
Ten people I do not know.
People who love me.

I break down sometimes,
but I have my moms wisdom.
Her smile is my smile.

I put lights in them,
and if they float away I'm
here when they get back.

I'm trying to be
gentle and compassionate.
Honest and caring.

Her face is my face.
My quest for satisfaction;
my love will run deep.

I abandoned you,
and we are still not talking.
Maybe it just hurts;

I fall in love fast,
but this distance was hard to
acknowledge at first.

I knew we couldn’t
satisfy each other so
I had left in shame.

Then I was *******
strangers to fill a void where
I tore out all love.

Someone read my soul.
You know I don’t believe in
spiritual ****,

but it was gorgeous.
I read myself as something
that you wouldn’t want.

I tried to find me,
but getting closer to me
was further from you.

I acted like it
was okay to keep you on
a string, just because

that’s how I felt too.
Second hand, second rate, I
wasn’t good enough.

But now I can see.
This fight to be important,
to feed my ego?

Rotten perfection.
I offered you something I’m
incapable of.

I’m hurt and sorry.
I’m not a lover… **** I’m…
not even a friend.

I’ve never been good.
My father, my mother, you,
I just cut things out.

My ex-girlfriend, or
my oldest friends, my brother.
I’m cut full of holes.

I’ve kept people here
Long as I could lie to them.
I’m not lying now.

I was happy to
pull a new honesty out,
but I lied to you.

You attacked me and
I deserved it completely.
I had just forgot.

Maybe it still hurts,
I’m numb in my fingertips.
I abandoned you.

Was touched by a witch.
Clawed at me while in her mouth,
but didn't draw blood.

Music in my head
too loud for a simple pain,
I'm begging for more.

Grabbing her wrists and
placing them where It's painful,
and nodding gently.

"More. Please, more.", I sigh.
She laughs, or giggles, I think.
Pleasure spiked with pain.

Yeah... she enjoys this.
Pure energy on her tongue.
Electricity.