We
carry dirt, this inner personality, while conditioned by experiences: this
fragrant nightmare, this compassionate monster, our aches breeding our
perceptions: this world of psychiatry, these psychological notions, this well seriously poisoned: (this slippery
slope, this weekend cadence): our social ladybugs, our apprehensive butterflies,
our forward socialization: at atypical openness, this challenge for ghettoes,
this nesting ground for upper echelons: this barbeque, this indifferent
treachery, this wheel within our
stars: as breathing our lives, or reckless with love, or stitched in secrets:
this trifle place, as our sisters die, as our minds gravitate towards miseries:
this daily frustration, this hellish meditation, this character constructer. We carry dirt, our nursing cribs, our
extraordinary parents—this chime by consensus, this misread community, this
history of abandonment—those bleak mannerisms, this instance with anger, this
fair breed admiring nuances: those orange hair-lights, our greens with ham-hocks,
our fluent use of profanity: our wants towards survival, our inverted
therapies, this wilderness while open to miseries: this familiar dance, those
familiar faces, our racial orientations: while color becomes eventful, or
colorless becomes this social margin, or both as at home with familiar
characteristics: this tension with essence, our differences by maniac
behaviors, our wonders concerning colorless strains: this stress for
popularity, this celebrity mind-state, or this deep resistance when selected as
abnormal: this serial behavior, this ghetto catastrophe, those rare
individuals: as coins flip, this imaginative academic, this relished charm: our
trips cross-cultures, our need to feel differences, our interlocking
insistence: our sea-shore moments; our schools finishing our habits; our
necessities tended-to while becoming outcasts: this florid nation, this fervent
beaut, while never appreciated: for nuance in unfamiliar, as souls grieve life,
where color becomes this adventure.
We study dirt, our
chimerical realities, our extravagant essence—this feeling, as so close to
unusual, to stand so near and feel so distant: this bubbly personality, this
wretched curse, this brilliant envy: (as met a charming psychotic, this bubbly
persona, this serious mirror): to come to behaviors, while foreign to
realities, to feel energy converting into nuances: this cherry reply, this
genuine want, as for nothing aside for that interaction: this wealth of pain,
this space in hell, for cheerful desires this atypical explosion: our dirty
headlights, our dirty home-base, this filth preventing this American ‘Normality’:
and still, we breed love-nests, we have children, and we mingle with other
cultures. We carry memories, this war to
exist, where children become our worth: those ostracized communities, those
resisted personas, our interior selves—as blended with dirt, this projection
upon existence, this fair gain—to have this curse, as needing this curse, for
this curse becomes home-plate: if but to dream, while pure of barnacles, while
cleared this state of effusions: our purple dresses, our pure white tunics,
this receiving, sexual atmosphere: as giving self, in order to retrieve self,
while one becomes leery of capitalization: this home of children, this office
at work, this trip to Africa: this eye-opening realization, this child’s death,
this warzone by ghetto bacteria: our screams at night, our wails at day, or
this cheesy existence claiming its neutralities: indeed, to futures, sprawled
by time, while peering into differences to find agreements: this filthy field,
this muddy lake, this jutted childhood: our first-base, our spiked brains, and
this curiosity where two seek similar nuances: this atypical chemistry, this
rare soul, this understanding by soulmates: our white dresses, our black
tuxedos, our palms carrying doves: our dirty therapies, our becoming therapies,
our voices emerging through therapies: this man running home, this man
cherishing ghetto adventures, this man laughing at something genuinely bright:
those torn ropes, those falling cuffs, those melting scars.
