The boxes
which keep my blood clean
are stacked as tall as I,
a monument
in the spare room
to past battles.
Too many words,
too many thoughts
******* in the
hand-to-hand combat
with mortality.

No more.

What life I have
will not be defined
by an indeterminate end.

I live to write poems;
I will no longer die in them.

green carpets of grass
spread their verdant coverage
over the landscape

little raindrop tears cling
to the carnation's petals
like spray on pink cheeks

The fear brings anxiety
The anxiety brings panic
With panic comes pain

Hope fades away
Depression sets in
guilt becomes your companion

The struggle is real
But it is not mine
She is the warrior

She fights
She reaches out
She crumbles

I watch
I listen
I cry

I am humbled by her strength
I am proud of her courage
I am broken by her sadness

But....I'm here....
For what ever she needs.....always.

What does it mean to be me,
The soul of a brother,
In the light skin of another..
Mulatto.

That biracial boy with white walls
And white bars,
A prison of stolen identity.

White & Black/ Black & White
Day & Night/ Night & Day

I'm the gray and the dusk inbetween