Vessel Of Troubled Thoughts

The method of my madness

Is the confidence in blackness

In a meadow of white flowers

Some roses, some saps

In a forest of unintelligible raps

Small, handcrafted lines don’t stand a chance

And they never gave me one, no endorsement

But with patience and practice I absorbed it

Now wherever I go I pen the deepest passion

Without inspiration, just routine, no rations

Of any emotion I might be feeling at the time

Be it anger, be it guilt, be it sadness

That often warms as a thick quilt

Draped over a sick child in fits of agony

Don’t look at my misery, don’t behold

The catastrophe

But you can’t help but read, I can’t help but write

The tasers, headlamps, and body cams

The prisoners, the sentencers, the tweeters

They don’t scare me

Not nearly as much as I scare myself

Digging up these solemn regrets

And showing them off to the world

As if I were a vessel of troubled thoughts

With nothing left to give

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What Words Bring

I had to get rid of me

To find Me

The suicidal depressions

And disappointment brewed

From pornographic misconceptions

The boiling, bawling anger I couldn’t control

Tearing myself from the flesh I called home

Descending into the valley, alone

I couldn’t come out until I figured how

Embrace my unique in a cookie cutter world

Screaming and crying until my nose would bleed

I was lost, so lost, it would seem

But when I went to sleep, I prayed to the walls

Please help me, lead me to something better

Something bigger and brighter than me

Everything in my eyes is failing, and I fell

Into dreams I haven’t had before or since

Wash my hands clean of the past

And embrace the new Me, the one you read

I don’t know what my own voice sounds like

Drowning in a chorus of many voices

Some needs are prioritized over others

But I always come back to the poet in Me

For words give me peace

Neither life nor death can bring

Nobody Listens To Me

Why should I listen

Nobody listens to me

When I say I’m tired, pouring on the pain

Becomes involuntary

Like the assumption that I’m slower

Or not there at all

Because I’m so still, so quiet

Thinking, wondering, adding

Really, you should try it

But don’t ever ask how I’m feeling, no

They only see what is thought to be insolence

And I became the last one picked for anything

I become the last on their minds, if it all

I become the first to reply, and the first to fall

Somehow I thrive and relish it all

The agony of being the only one in the group

Without someone who you’re close to

Who understands you, who cares about you

What I would give for a perfect son like that

But what I wouldn’t would be a longer list

Because in the space of time I am missed

I refuel with the words of my ancestors

Fellow writers, and leaders that inspire

If anyone is listening to me, it is them

Through the pages of history I am restored

Vindication shall be mine, and more

This Child Becomes Undone

Don’t mind

I’m just writing

Clues for you

Clues for your heart to follow

And yours hips to ride on

Write on

About how I don’t appeal to you

Your sensitivity, shaken, curiosity, awakened

Yet I feel I’m a pawn in your sea

But you’re the one to be sunk

By the weight of my words

The bitter past swells in the eye

This storm feeds off your attention

The beauty on the outside

Fuels the monster within

Never to be feared

And temporarily loved

I sleep with your soul, one eye open

Wishing while wild

To have this child undone

I’m Okay With This

Got a knack for poetry

Crafting heartfelt lines

Borne of an outsider

Watching the world go by

Never done what people said, got into trouble

World’s not kind to my kind, be in my bubble

Silently preying on those with open hearts

Check my blogs, see a lot of orange dots

I didn’t make a lot of friends when I was young

But when you comment “well done”

“Amazing” and “❤️

The words become alive, the evil undone

My father wasn’t kind to me, but you are

And I’m not finished, but I’ve come far

My life is a battleground, this means war

My heart is a bunker, these words mortars

My spine is a fortress, these tears are arrows

Tipped with fire

The invisible wires around my people

Will one day fall as I climb the steeple

Of supremacy and statues

Identity and virtues

But until then, I’ll keep writing

And you keep telling me how you feel

We’re connected, you and I

Even on a technological level

And I’m okay with that

Without Words, Who Am I

I’m falling into wordless whispers

Rap and pop filled nights

Paint a picture behind these bridges

Behind the words of these writes

I’m angered, I’m restless

In the pursuit of the passion

For these words there is no detour

This endless highway I will forever traverse

In these words, they can’t get to me

Stand behind these bars like a criminal

Yet freed from their boring ways, so cyclical

Long eyelashes and red lips kiss my fingers

Rushing her vulva over my face, so ethereal

Taking me somewhere I never wanted to go

But was always meant to be

The songs of night are the voice calling to me

And I leave them on speed dial

When I’m pushing a broom, cleaning my room

Or up late studying for that Math test

My mind’s racing, it’s always wild

And when I’m supposed to be listening

I’m thinking of words to write, a separate file

Where I store the very honest bits of me

Find them here

And learn how I came to be

I don’t talk much, but I write too little

I can always add another verse

Another stanza

Because without words

Who am I

Taking Back My Life

White light

Switch the day

to night

Black as whips

Cross my skin

I fight

As breath is faint and light

Cross my body go chains of steel

I fail

As hunger burns heavy and tight

The American Dream is frail

As the tears that take vision from my eyes

From my family, from my future

And everything and everyone I hold dear

I’ll never be like you, and always in fear

Of what they might do

Because I’m not like you

Jogging through the city to find my peace

I still can’t find a seat to eat from this table

It’s a fantasy, but these cramps are real

Building my endurance through literature

I cannot outbid you, but I can out write you

I can speak of men young and old

Shatter your old and refurbished ways

The sun shines on me, on this new day

I’m also on Instagram now, so go follow me! 🤗

Therapy Session One

Sitting in the middle of the room

Come on in, close the door behind you

We’re starting soon

Take off your makeup

Throw away yesterday’s eyelashes

Let me see your bare lips

Bitten, bloody, and bruised

Take off your gloves

The marks of chains aren’t mine to choose

Stand up for me, and expose your back

The welts and wilted skin aren’t in lack

The two, rusted lines like railway tracks

Is this the life you asked for?

Why can’t you stand, why do you shudder

What has happened to you child

Tell me

(I can’t help you)

Tell me

(They really can’t help us)

Is it your mother?

Is it your father?

Ah yes, that explains the size of the marks

That distinction certainly sets them apart

Now, what are they like, to start

Why does one help you, and the other hurt

Oh, they both do it

Well that adds some complexity to it

But you say, one is physical

The other is mental

You’re quite the case

Yet not far from the norm

I suggest you go back to them

Because they clearly love you

They express it differently

Have a good afternoon

MISS FERGUSON? THREE O’FIVE FOR MISS FERGUSON?

(You’re doing great kid)

(They’re doing great)

Between Bleeding and Breathing

I want to love you

But I can’t

There’s something sensual

And quite offensive

In the youth of your hands

Sometimes you’re fantastic

And I’d gladly lie by your side

Take up your mantle

Riding with you till the end of the line

Shadows in the foreground

Never scare me, never steal time

When I’m dancing with your darling

Sometimes you’re staunchly impossible

And I’d gladly take your life

Watch the crimson run from passionate eyes

You were never meant to go on

Only die by my hands, in every possible

Rendition of time

But time does tell me, you’re somewhere

In between

Killed and to be killed for

Beating and breathing

Bleeding

From the finality of lust

Bleeding

From the hatred of your breath

And I turned you to dust

Headfirst Slide Into Quarryville On A Dare

Cast a spell over a city

Sudden fondness develops an entity

That warms every part of me

Boy meets girl, I’m reluctant to speak

Girl speaks first, and I hide what she can see

Broken before, I can’t open the door

Though there’s more to her, so much to know

There’s more to her than what meets the eye

Softly sitting hair, ravishing smile

Spinning closer and closer in her gravity

I think I could stay here for a while

There’s times when I get flustered

And in her presence, my lack seems to muster

All of it’s envy and disappointment

But it’s the essence of her beauty

That doesn’t shine on the outside

But through the outside inside

I can only sigh, she makes this place better

I can only smile, she makes me better

I don’t know how, and there’s not a Why

But I love this feeling, that much I know

It’s not a rush, it’s not a high

It’s the quiet consolation of a lullaby

The silent chronicle of chance