I
thought it caught up; it drifted, after its lingering ghosts.
the
arc of the scientific, killed insides, brazen ink—one picture.
the
hold we accept, the pain we kindle, asking for change.
the
calendar is outdated, another ascending decade, the future has a repeat button.
sullen
angels, blighted gardens, piranha souls. we need freedom. what is more freedom?
absurd, to ask about chains.
winter
feelings.
amazed
we die, or live, no true ideas; feeling blasé, held
accountable,
judged by my dreams. the cage became a friend … souls for capture, fidgets,
holes in identity.
so
confused most are, acting it out, many social labels. Love was respected, most
never questioned her, something inside was unhinged, she would evaporate. those
aforesaid chains, our women on trial, holding to fastness, holding to fastidious,
angered by sensitivities. never taught us much, expected we should know, how is
that fair?
another
lives the dream, Harvard politics, our understanding of colored folks, our compartmentalization.
walking
into noise, celebrating uneasiness, holidays seem impersonal, made personal,
wondering about acceptance.
normality
is different, painful, no one shall escape.
