pleasure is a castle
on which no one is king.

she would finger paint her falsehoods
on everything she touched
one moment with her pirouetted into another
glorious, everything was a dance 
a cruel twirling thing rimmed only by
your nascent doubt,
she was unequivocal, a series of events  
and mishaps held together, barely;
but what came bursting through those cracks,
her colors outside her lines
were eerily quiet
a pale shade of gray
which is even more ado,
she was attempting unbecome
and she was close; sliding away 

dark;daring
something obsidian silkily slithering; encapsulating
what is this? some kind of anti-dawn?
its midnight, sit tight
fellow boogeymen
we’re strangers here; hang from chandeliers
pangs of danger; finger foods nowhere near; tentacles tantalize
what a soft little mood 
speaking words so round and smooth; sin were in the whispers too
sinful sands scantily sprinkled on fluttering eye lids
when open they hid; hid they did

this book is a pit
we’re trapped inside!
where chimeras creepily crawl
out of a sprawling wall of eyes 
warning - this product may contain saturated pride
lets change this truth into a lie
damned are the minds of men 
that try to deny
book bends are the sequins
in which a faded glory hides
faded not to you or I
a faded - less tumescent answer to the question life; why?

coworker: Sergio is hilatious that fried chicken joke was hilarious, it’s a fact, black people love fried chicken.

me: 

*coworker notices me for the first time*

coworker: 

me: 

coworker: heh, cbm it uhh, it was a joke.

me: I get it, truly I do, you’re willing to try anything to negate the profundity of your nonexistence, and labeling others, especially ones that differ from you gives you some feeling of control and through that  misinterpretation a slowly dissipating mirage of purpose; its not like you need control, you already have it, you’re a gainfully employed young, white, christian male with a college degree and a full head of hair, you literally could not have it any easier, yet it’s not enough, it’s never enough, you feel threatened and you don’t understand why, so you repeat what you heard your daddy say, you attempt to move forward by stepping back, you make a statement which is ground breaking, “black people like fried chicken” you insult me by attempting to shove me against my will into some box, then you insult my intelligence by saying it’s a joke, even if it was, how old is that material? Do you have one about airplane food? Did you just fly in? are  your arms tired? wakka wakka? wakka wakka?

coworker: 

me:  

coworker:

me:

me:

me: I mean can you blame us? it sure is delicious! *shit eating grin*

coworker: hahaha yeah! cbm gets it!

no country no old color
it don’t stop; dirty garments on dancing bones
city streets sweep with Rockefellers
substance with no harmony; ocapellas
broken black and white TV sets
old; the channels never change
miles of smiles change to cringes
as mouths with no hinges
do their best pac-man impression
there is no expression
only wolves behind counters
with expresso machines squirting shots of just work
there is no just worth; its just earth 
the great depression
the great expression 
the great impression; the american dream, black men scream 
on that silver screen
great white hippy hopes in that exhaled dope; an exhalted hope
lady liberty is naked underneath that dress
no wonder america goes commando
just release john rambo and army figurines
good,keep the man’s mind quarantined
no emotions; no chicken soup
just baseball bats and chicken fingers
surrogates and doppelgangers are in our closets on our hangers
we are our own worst stranger; danger

engrasped in the scene
footfalls on rasp and rocks
dime store dreams
peddled on corner store TV screens
the laughter drowns out the screams 
what a shop of horrors
rolling stones so porous
we ignore the words
but sing along to the chorus; 
killer instinct is extinct
ripped and gnashed by the maw; so hungry
for man, for country
empathy sold separately
but it is soled; a stepping stone to a throne
one made of cockroach thorax’s and skulls
ahh! just like home 
empires fall and stars die,
surrogate cyborgs rise out of cracked concrete
facebook - mission complete

her dark was calm
her windows were tinted exquisite
no one could see in
but see out, see out she did
the pounds merry - go - round
exponentially with the ups and downs of her frowns
she needed the pretty, she craved to be a doll
the slender cuts released;
they were her gills, the slits
she needed them to breathe
closed eyelids hers breaths freeze
this is where she wishes the nightmares never leave
she was better this way
she needed the doubt
her identity was more about whats missing
she could not face what scarred; scared,
a ghost she was
a ghost but there