I write to not completely forget who I was before the years turned old and the present which was then the future,bleak. I write to hold on to the only part of me that truly is , the untainted purity , the art, the trill that comes from the touture of sitting still when in my head I’m a jumbled mess , I write for the Joy that precedes the sadness that prevails once I’ve emptied my pen . I write because it is the only thing you will hear , the only thing to be said, the only thing that I know and understand. I write because this is how I know I’m alive .


I can’t, I can’t go any further please 

I can’t, I can’t go any farther please 

I’ll lose my life, I’ll freeze 

That Nigga with the fell out coochie ‘ll raise his fist and I’ll freeze 

The truck’ll honk too loud and ill freeze

The people’ll stare too long and I’ll freeze

Have you got an umbrella? Can I use it please 

I can’t go to the market, I can’t buy the fish 


I can’t speak either please 

My voice box is weighed down by this unshed tears please 

I can’t . 


Oh you poor little green thing

Are you sick 

Or is that just the color of your skin

What ? You thought you’d pierce my brown leathery hide 

Well I’m sorry , you lie

I’ve got fingers and you’re no bigger than a little house fly 

Oh you poor little green thing

I wouldn’t even have to clap 

Just let my sensitive find your hide

And a little caress would suffice to snuff you life.