Jayce

Jayce Apr 2016

Untitled

Why do I call you mine
when I want nothing to do with you
why do I call the memory ours
when the only thing we shared was air and a ****** bed
why do I think you own me
just because your voice telling me to be quiet is all that I hear when you're around
arms twisted behind my back,
pinned beneath you until you finished
pulling up your pants, tossing my ******* at me,
and telling me "you're bleeding"
when only an hour before you called me yours

#****

Jayce Apr 2016

Mother's Day

I do not celebrate Mother's Day
What is a mother?
a polaroid that gradually loses its color?
An air conditioner so broken all you can feel is the chill in your bones?
A staticky sound that turns into an overwhelming shriek?
An accomplice to anxiety?
A trigger to bipolarity?
what is my mother?

Jayce Apr 2016

Black Bird

you would wrench my wings behind my back whenever I was ready to take off
and when I finally got out of your cage, you took hold and ripped them from my back
and you placed them on yours and sang a sad song
and everyone flocked to you as if you were the one hurting
while I was bleeding and trying to find out how to get back in the air

#blood

Jayce Apr 2016

You're A Monster

Everyone who has ever hurt me has my blood on their hands
But there is one who had the most
And she pushed her hands in her pockets,
Hiding the sight and the metallic smell of what she'd done to me
She shoved the knife in my hands and insisted I did it to myself

It's been two years
And she has yet to wash the blood off
Instead it's dried and there's the faintest hue of it on her hands
And yet she still insists I left myself bleeding

#blood #knives

Jayce Apr 2016

To My Mother

You were handed a time bomb instead of a bouncing baby
And for sixteen years you tried to cut the right wire
Only to realize you're no demolitions expert
And so you sacrificed me
(To save yourself?)
(To save me?)
And as soon as you sped off, bracing yourself for impact
I extinguished
And for three more years, I waited
Waited for a sign
That since I was no longer a threat,
You might finally feel something
I'm still waiting

Jayce Apr 2016

The Box

"Put your trauma in a box, put it on a shelf, and don't acknowledge it until you're ready"
My therapist smiles at me and I feel like I might actually be losing my mind
But I go home
And I put everything she did to me in a box in my mind
And I bury it in the deepest corners where old lovers who left live
For a while, I forget
But in the midst of the night
When I'm deprived of sleep
The box jumps and thrusts itself to the front of my mind,
Causing the top to fall off -
I remember watching that movie with her
Crying with her
My own favorite movie has betrayed me and made me sick and inconsolable
I get up, grab the DVD case, break the disk into pieces
The box returns to an even deeper corner
But this time it takes a part of me with it

#abuse #therapy

Jayce Apr 2016

The Color of my Skin Poses a Question

What I want to know is why?
Why am I told to remember the tragedy of 9/11, but when I bring up the tragedy of my people once enslaved, I am told that it was years ago and I should “get over it”?
Why when I make a joke at a Caucasian friend’s expense does his face grow disgusted and he spats the word racist at me, then turns around and make a joke at a black man’s expense and expects me to laugh?
Why am I told that I am “boring” or that “no one likes being around an angry black woman” when I rise up to speak about the obstacles all people of color face in the modern society?
Why is it that my Caucasian friends are allowed to rely stories of being called racist with voices grim and shocked, but if I ask, “Well, were you being racist?” they look at me as if I’ve offended them?
Why is it a normal thing for people of color to rise and speak about their experiences of being a minority, only to have a Caucasian person slap a metaphorical hand over their mouth by saying, “You’re not the only one who’s experienced racism”?
Why as a child growing up was I taught by society that darker skin was less desirable, that if I was dark I shouldn’t wear pastel bright colors, that my blackness isn’t worshipped, but now in modern day society I am forced to watch Caucasians wear weave, get braids, do things they consider “being black” and have praise rain down on them?
Why should I have to listen to my Caucasian friends use the word “*****” as if their ancestors didn’t pronounce the word the same way someone would call a dog a mutt?
Why when I asked my Caucasian friend to explain why her crush wasn’t her type, she mentioned his blackness not as a worry that someone might not agree, or because years ago it wouldn’t be allowed, or as a concern that the way the modern world seems to be against him, but as if his blackness deemed him less dateable?
Why?

#race #racism #poc

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