BLACK

She dodged the mirrors decorating the bathrooms and walls. The sight of her reflection was too foul, too disfigured she couldn’t stand her own appearance. Her body built bulky, it out weighed her personality. Her stomach rolled on, layers upon layers of negro stories each holding a secret, she had many to tell but no one listened. Heavy Chunky Thighs made Heavy Black Burdens. She used to vomit and cut out the excess in an effort to obtain “the best version of herself”. No matter what lengths she went to impress the boys at school, we all know with the tags she wore on her back that read ” Black, Fat, and Angry” were of the least desirable kind. Black eyes that begged to be considered brown and beautiful seen fatalities of the colorful kind. She saw rainbows smeared on the streets, colours ranging from blue to white, black to red and everything in between. Cruel commentary cuts through her layers of skin with a sharp knife and an Orange BIC Lighter. Exposed flesh painted with blood, skin torn from her wrists to her elbows read her deepest fears and thoughts. Her blood dripped all over her collection of suicide notes, in total there was more blood lost to the papers then there was circulating her body.

Black and Beautiful only applied to the ones who could pass the paper bag test. Other’s like her forced cotton down their throats and bit down on their tongues every time the master called them a “Nigger Bitch”. Her beauty was in the eye of her beholder, and he held her, he held her down with rope to the wooden bed frame and a gun to her forehead as he raped her. No bullet could have done the damage of his bastard babies they penetrated through more then just flesh, they impregnated her mind. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. She never knew her own beauty.

She stood in her bathroom facing the mirror.

It had been the first time she had looked at herself in months.

Something about her appearance was so familiar but too foreign.

Tweezers in one hand, while a tight grip in the other.

Raising her hands to her face, they shook.

She had no control.

Puncturing her pimples deemed imperfections.

Blood and puss ran from her forehead,

like the tears of her mother

while she sat next to her dying daughter’s hospital bed reading her latest goodbyes.

Scars mimicking bullet holes.

Her skin so dark, so deep, you can’t see the blemishes.

She’s covered in them.

She wrote and bled. And wrote more and then bled more but this time her head hit the ground before her last drop of blood even touched the paper. She didn’t think her wishes would ever come true so suddenly or early, without any warning but unfortunately for her they didn’t. She was rushed to the hospital with her demons all surrounding her. Upon her arrival her great friend Luci was waiting. Dressed in blue scrubs, a procedure mask, and ivory gloves he was ready to work. She was strapped to the operating table, they gave her poison to easy the pain that she longed to experience.

Drugged on her insecurities.

Fed intimacy to stay stable.

Wounds bound with abuse,

no bandages were needed in this process.

She had flat-lined long before they opened the gates to her hell but Luci was desperate.

Some how, some way, he gave her the gift of life back.

Awake, naked and vulnerable her nightmares became her reality.

 She was terrified of everyone seeing,

the hips that bared children of rape,

none of them would know their own father.

The skin, bruised, beaten, cracked,

white lines covering black skin

made by

white whips cracking onto black backs.

The arms that spent hours on end behind her head

as the police officer beat her with a baton

as he screamed “Stop resisting arrest !”

From that night,

she received broken ribs, a fractured skull and a bleeding face.

Thank God she wasn’t declared dead.

The stretch marks wrapping around her body

like the ropes around her peoples’ necks as they hung from trees.

Oh, how their bodies swayed in the wind like flags,

Tree branches like flag poles.

The real confederation flags.

Blue, Red, Black

Lest we forget.

The skittles, cigarettes, CDs

The failure to signal, the busted tail lights or the loud music.

Lest we forget

The little black girl in the back seat comforting her screaming mother

as father was shot right in front of her little black eyes.

Lest we forget the many more to come.

Halloween Hungers

No Caption Provided

Let go, be afraid. You all taste so much better when you’re afraid.

 

Hallow’s Eve, time to leave, in search of sugary treats.

Costume on, Skulls I dawn, to hit the evening streets.

Door to door, legs grow sore, as I candy I did find;

Yet house, rundown, thrown upside down was my youthful mind.

Pace up to the steps, knock, knock, knock, hoping for a snack.

Decor galore! of joke and gore, that decorated the shack.

Creak of wood, and there he stood, in the cracked door frame,

A creature of night, skin  undead white, putting my costume to shame.

“Trick or Treat,” I said to greet, the devilish man before me.

“Come in, come in!” he said with a grin, “Come in, I implore thee.”

Reluctant was I, yet did comply, the greed for sweets too great,

To wake up my mind, my thoughts confined, t’was already too late.

Large pants, like implants, suspenders on a shirt,

Red nose, hair rose, puffed like a skirt.

Teeth sharp, his voice a harp, from his face arose,

The classic sphere, full of cheer: a red ball on his nose.

“Candy, boy? Is that your ploy? Come with me, your reward

is in this room, yours to consume, just walk forward.”

So as I paced, my heart did race; I came across a cellar.

Prompted was I, to head inside, by the house’s dweller.

“Just ahead, there’s nothing to dread, the candy’s just right there!”

Step by step,  without pep, I descended down the stairs.

“Gummies, yummies, for young tummies, Smarties just for you!”

SLAM

“Of course, as for myself,  my meal’s a bit overdue.”

Behind me, the hatch, I heard it latch, as darkness all around

Was filled with the pace, of a clown in chase, of the boy he found.

The darkness hid the beast amid the blindness of my eyes

As all I heard, a noise absurd, the sharpening of knives.

His voice changed, became deranged, suddenly very gruff.

Undead, demonic, a smoker that’s chronic, shouted out, “Enough!

It’s been so long since I’ve come along meat I can gnaw.

My stomach calls, my skin crawls, maybe I’ll just eat you raw!”


Thedarkpaladin. “Pennywise.” Photo. comicvine Sept. 27, 2015. Oct. 18, 2016. <http://comicvine.gamespot.com/forums/battles-7/pennywise-vs-andre-linoge-1718665/>

Insomnia (5:55 AM)

This piece is dedicated to all the nervous, sleepless nights I have endured. We’ve all been there. Sleep is an escape from all of life’s anxieties.  So tell, me what is one to do when they are unable to sleep? Thank God someone invented sleeping pills, huh?


Liquid-Blue-Lullaby,

sing me to sleep,

or else I won’t rest.

Counting sheep doesn’t work

anymore;

this mind’s been too

busy to count,

these thoughts are too

chaotic for order.

These lids are heavy,

but they refuse to shut,

and every time I begin to fall,

I am jolted awake by the sound

of my heart palpitating

against my ribs.

I accept that fact that

I will be up before

my alarm clock goes off

at six AM.

It is already 5:55.

It’s been 32 hours since I last slept.

 

Swollen eyes stare up at the ceiling,

defeated.

I think I’ll call in sick

tomorrow.

Skull pounding, legs shaking,

I tiptoe to the kitchen,

open the medicine cabinet,

 and reach out–

mama always keeps

the good stuff on the top shelf.

I pop the lid,

lay you in my palm.

I stare down

at you, liquid-blue.

And I can hear

you humming.


Image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/124200902201176918/

My Sky

I used to sit and fix my gaze upwards… and I would wonder who I was meant to be.


My sky was meant to be painted in the raw spectrum of the rainbow, where every color jumped in vibrant exclamations of wanting to be great. Every hue in my sky was meant to be lurid and glaring, flaming in its brilliance, thriving in the pulse of its unlovely but spectacular color.

But instead, the sky is pale and pretty, painted from a pallet of clear, fresh tints and sketched from delicate pencils. Soft shades and sweet hues blend in loveliness… but I don’t want the sky to be lovely.

My sky was meant to bleed reds and greens, blues and oranges, yellows and purples, and every single shade of gray. It was meant to catch fire from the force of its unrestrained passion and daring fervency.

But instead, the sky falls apart like the petals of a rose, perpetually dropping in silence and taping itself back together with lines from forgotten melodies.

My sky was meant to be woven from drops of heaven sliding down the horizon like fallen stars. I was meant to hold a needle and thread so I could sew the curve of the sun into a seamless circle that ends where I begin…

…but instead, the muted hush of reality has hemmed itself into the lining of the sky.

my-sky-1My sky was meant to breathe in my ardor and breathe out a freedom that I could take and pin to my spirit to make it wilder. It was meant to curve so that it could fit the splendid arches of the rainbow. It was supposed to unite the strokes of sunrise at the horizon with the arms of trees reaching upwards to stroke the dawn. In its effervescent fearlessness, my sky was supposed to meet the demands of the world with a smirk written in the stars. It was meant to pull vermilion clouds into middle-finger taunts for those who overstep their grace – unashamed and strong. Bold and beautiful, it would be transcendent of expectations and limitations.

But instead, the sky is lined with tentative slips of mist that shyly offer themselves to others, too pleasant to consider brushing away the covers of cordiality.

My sky was meant to be a dome to cover every raindrop of my inexpressible sadness. It was supposed to guard the billowing winds of my panicked terror and stand strong against the depressive iron-bleak, snow-stilled winters. Against the wild rains and slashing sleets of my ire, my sky would hold together. It was supposed to fortify the scope of my emotions like a snow-globe that captures the essence of who I was meant to be.

But instead, the sky is gentle and carries only a trace of the emotion suppressed beneath remote breezes. The sky only just hints at traces of sentiment laced in the acquiescent spread of clouds.my-sky-2

My sky was meant to be a liquid mirror patchwork of everything I’ve ever felt, it was meant to bind the ranges of my rainbow to the steadiness of blue. It would reflect my lights and reflect my darks, it would safeguard the malignancies of shadows lurking between my heartstrings, and it would magnify the brilliance of moonlight playing among strands of my soul. To balance my wretchedness and my cheer in the steadiness of midday, my sky was supposed to blend the sunrise and the sunset in the swirl of daylight.

But instead, the sky hides its darkness behind the demure serenity of phantom peace and still nights that are perpetually holding their breath.

My sky was meant to bind my turbulent emotions to the ghosts of my tears, to take clotheslines of the words I will never say and braid them into the tresses of willow trees.

my-sky-3But instead, the sky is complacent. It’s satisfied with the sweetness of pale pastels. The sunrises are dusted with watered-down versions of rose and peach. The sky is simple and sleepy and the sun shines placidly. The sky is wistful, a quiet reminder of everything I could have been.

My sky was meant to be beautiful, daring, a quilt of everything I’ve ever felt, a patchwork of everything I want to be.

But instead, the sky is polite and pretty, pleasant and passive… predictable. It’s suffocatingly silent, shallow in its stagnant stillness. And it’s not enough.

My sky was meant to be dauntless and striking – I was meant to be dauntless and striking.

But I am not. I was meant to be so much more than this. But I am not.


Nowadays, I sit and fix my gaze upwards… and I wonder who I am.

 

 

 

 

Citations:

Sienna. “Err0r9 on DeviantArt.” Err0r9 (Sienna) – DeviantArt. DeviantArt, n.d. Web. 27 Oct. 2016. <http://err0r9.deviantart.com/>.

Admin Yuhiam. “Benjamin Moore Evening Dove Paint.” , Sky Color Combinations for Home. Benjamin Moore, 1 Sept. 2016. Web. 27 Oct. 2016. <http://www.yuhiam.xyz/photo/sky-color-combinations-for-home-18.html>.

“Clouds Landscapes Artwork Fantasy Sky Clouds Ocean Sea Reflection Wallpaper | 1920×1080 | 58898 | WallpaperUP.” Clouds Landscapes Artwork Fantasy Sky Clouds Ocean Sea Reflection Wallpaper | 1920×1080 | 58898 | WallpaperUP. WallpaperUP, n.d. Web. 27 Oct. 2016. <http://www.wallpaperup.com/58898/clouds_landscapes_artwork_fantasy_sky_clouds_ocean_sea_reflection.html>.