A pocket knife, cutting nails, some half-native oranges, it is bitter, the story of the people of the east side of this underwear tales, forgotten vowels like apologize, agonize and strategize.
Got lost in some chances to breathe further than this smoke, so pulled out the busy finger to hold a page for a daily prayer, perhas a punchline I could rest my forehead on some unvisited beach, the sand is rough, cool, and not so motherly as I wished to relax from this illusive nation, freedom of speech, golden speeches in prison, not even natural light penetrate these bars of 200% dark chocolate, some charcoal to paint the floor with missing vowels for other gods like wind, air and water altogether, what I wished my cell-mate for his 50 something birthday.
Oh……
The burnt brackish industrialized coffee from a nearby farm, I couldn’t tell the difference, once the soul was exterminated, some grains found their way to hell, my back throat as I speak no language but crying and shouting lyrics of dispair, the whole western world stares and wonder why oh why, my hope has dried and now it’s the killing, I am after.
Some full-wine-glasses-apple pie-munchers sat around the table dinner and went off blabbering about the complexity of a golf hit and run, while waving assertively a server to drive them over a moist grass golf course, white socks and some fluffy compliments, better have insurance to cover this play time while the other side of the mountain was on fire catching bombs of silicon valley commercials and escaping the McDrive but Mcdonalds promised what they’ve got!?
All this misery and whining was impossible to feed, left or white.. East Coast flirts with West Indian Cricket. There are so many trends to love and hate, and we pull the trigger of Netflix just to forget.
Keep silent.
