A Writer’s Plea

July 9, 2016

A glance from the past…

I practice my penmanship because my thoughts are critical. I don’t need any incentive. I’m just working on the vulgar lips. Vulgar things can happen with the lips that lie between her hips, and then I tell my friends and they just laugh at it. I’m partitioning His grace now because a couple swipes right turned into real life. Thinking, “What’s with all the hype?”, but I found out one night. And I’ve honestly just about had it although I’ve never “had it.” Judgement can judge me, but circumstance please don’t split my family. The job description included like 200 miles between you and we. I’m praying for all these girls, but I need to pray for peace. I just need peace of mind as my mind fishes to find a place of solace in this life. However, the social climate of this world makes anything spiritual look “spiritual” to me. It’s kind of misty, and now I’m stuck on E without the high beams. Turning 22 didn’t fill me. Spending time in her room didn’t fill me. It was January, and staring at a tomb didn’t fill me. Her ingestion of my future sons and daughters as if it was spoom didn’t fill me. Quit that shit. Now I got to get some more Fruit of the Loom. Can You fill me? A lot of energy has been expended, but my guard has been up. We have both been trying to conserve everything that is left of us because it’s not much. Time ages things, but I was born to be young. Times change things. Imagine thinking about things that you would never do. Imagine having thoughts that your younger mind couldn’t construe. Lord please forgive us forgive for our mental sin, but I’m all covered in sin. I’ve got vices, and I’ve been living on the whim of some second hand prayers. Then I say a prayer, but only because she appeared. It’s easy to become religious when it comes to her or her. “Lord please bless me as the clock ticks faster and my joints churn slower.” And I am still effected by the social conditioning. A younger me liked to stay in air conditioning. We dreaded hearing the statement, “Man you all got darker.” Yes my skin strayed further from European. I remember my older brother playing Dark Vader just without the pay. Then he became “The Color Purple”; well at least that’s what all the kids would say. Self-hate inevitably followed, but then winters soft sun would lessen our problems…. What if we were all faceless? What if a women’s personality determined the quality of her make up? I just hope that I can make it back to the place from which I’ve strayed from. This is a writer’s plea as he treks on back to wherever the hell he came from.