for most of my life now

her eyes had
a murderous

i’ve been
willing for
most of my
life now

that soft skin

the slight tremble
of anticipation

we can laugh
about it now

those haphazard
moments where
the itchy trigger
finger doesn’t
quite understand
the concept of

the world may
think of us as

but we never
had any children
and only harmed
those that deserved

the american dream

all due to my childhood

police across the street
on a sunday afternoon

it finally feels like the

booze soothing old

enough weed to get
a dead man high

dysfunction clings in
the air like doubt and

those that live on hope
in these times amaze

i’m simply not wired
that way

and yes, once again,
i know it is all due
to my childhood

just like my insatiable
need for black women
in my life

never finding the love
from my father

and my pure hatred for
liver and onions

some scars never leave

joyless existence

a joyless existence

but just enough fortune,
just enough good luck
disguises the truth that
not enough love, not
enough of the shit that
matters creates despair

but as any self-described
genius can attest

being stubborn as fuck is
a knife that cuts both ways

noble to be prolific, but
there could always be
another way

life exists somewhere
between the extremes

but too many times
the narrative becomes
my way or the highway

think of all the open roads
and the places you have
never seen because conformity
was the only reality you were
allowed to know

smoke something your parents
warned you about and be sure
to lace it with all the unused
energy wasted all these years

new year new you

trite, but if it gets you to actually
experience something

so be it