See How They Fly

I was walking downtown with you. Everything looked fuzzy and uncertain but that's why we were walking. There could had been a Bill Murray-sized fly and we wouldn't be able to make it out. The lights were hard to miss but only a gentle dim for people on a 3D plane. I don't remember everything we did during the years during our simple, semi-adult time together. But I remember I was elated, enraged, enthralled, emotionless, empathetic, and earnest towards you. It didn't matter right now, as I only had one word to describe for us at this particular moment:

Bubbles

I had saved it for a special occasion, as I had got down on one knee and popped the question. "Will you get a mac & cheese chicken biscuit with me?" She started enthusiastically crying as bats shrieked and flew overhead. And I didn't even tell her I was paying for it.

We had been dressed for the night out on the town; me in my Nike joggers, Doc Marten combat boots, colorful-filled bandanna wrapped around my receding hairline, and my favorite Captain America shirt. I thought I was so fly. You were wearing all the colors of red, dressed in silk and every necklace Jared has on discount. Along with a culturally appropriate headdress that flowed down past the cracks of the sidewalks and 9-inch stilettos. I told you that you looked like you just came off the farm, harvesting spaghetti squash, specifically. You cried but I lied and told you that you appearance was acceptable. You made me walk to downtown as you drove.

After the 11 miles to get downtown and not learning the superpower of flight, I arrived downtown, Cue Great Gatsby montage in a small, southern town as we painted the downtown Tostitos. The whole block and a half. As I told you once again, I don't remember a lot of that night beyond laughing, bubbles, and under-priced soul food. Willy Wonka was there too but he was pissed at us. Our legs stopped working and an invisible bed glided us to the rest of our destination back home.You were there and so was I, and that is all I needed.

But I remember the end. I never forget an ending.

We went back to my house. Your home was the barn outside. I told you to grab a soggy towel from outside after you finished your bath. I yelled about something-something from an open door as you yelled something-something back. Your image became distorted. You kept restlessly morphing into different friends, foes, frenemies, random people I met on airplanes I flown on, all in that same red dress. Your copy of Watchmen rested on the nightstand where I was calmly pacing back and forth. That was a lie.

The night aggressively turned into day and I had a feeling that we should leave. Or at least I should have. Your morphing ceased but it was still eerie. "Even for a dream" I softly spoke. I was still asleep and images came to and fro as I was unconscious but these weren't dreams. I sprinted towards the bedroom to turn on the blast shields. The alarm didn't go off. You were still gossiping as my screams filled the hallway. I painstakingly checked every single door, window, hole, crack and crevice to make sure we were sealed in. The front door was halfway open. We had entered from the garage door after our night was over. If you ever wanted to witness a black man spread his wings and leave the ground, pretend like you see me bolt towards that door to see how they fly.

I landed 2 feet away from the door, on my stomach. I fly whizzed past my head. James Wolk walked into the house, not Joe Keene Jr. "Come outside please" he said with an ear-to-ear grin. I carefully rose and followed him. I was half-naked. In my front yard numerous trucks, men, plaid shirts, and rifles greeted with warmly red attire. James had told me that the neighborhood had been doing well. And I wasn't allowed to be here anymore. I kneeled down replying softly replied "okay" and closed my eyes. James, not Joe, put his hand on my shoulder, relieved. He told me "thanks for understanding".

 But I didn't see black, all I saw was red.

New Breed by DAWN

Arrested Development Pt. 3

I looked across my room at my Nina Simone print. It's Nina Simone looking hopeful, enamored in some sort of blissful, full look at absolutely nothing. She looked like someone had just told her that life is going to be everything that she hoped for right as she popped out of Mary Kate. Her dreams looked like that had come true, and everything was going to be alright. Or maybe everything is everything.

The first time I had even heard of Nina Simone or her voice was a sample by Yeezy's "Blood on the Leaves"; in contrary to my print, her voice sounded angrily exhausted, deprived of energy, yet still stunning. Like she had been stripped of something that was rightfully hers. Like her child. Or her name. Or her identity. Or the ability to piss in your own toilet.

I have collected a lot of portraits and prints over the years. Star Wars regalia, self-portraits of myself, sci-fi stuff, other musicians. This one breaks my heart. Because this has shown so much of how much I dared to dream, how much I have been wanting to become bigger than myself. 

I am fully aware of who I am, trust me. I have spent a lot of time with him. Exuding and conveying myself in this light because it makes me feel full and whole. It makes people around me feel full and whole. Like a fat man at Krispy Kreme when the sign comes on. But that fat man is going to feel bad after that sign goes off. And I helped him feel okay to be fat even though he sort of knows it's not what he wants while I definitely know it's not the look. But I told him it was okay.

Except I didn't do any of that, ever. I never told him to keep eating. I told him to stop numerous times and showed him data. And he told me he wasn't happy this way. And I said cool here's what ya' gotta do. All of the time. Never not showed him what keeps happening. And then he asks "why am I obese and unhappy" 10 years later. It makes me feel like the paragraph before this one is true.

But then again, it is amazing how powerful and how strong I could be and many people I have effected by just walking down the street. I am the unstoppable force, parallel with the immovable object. I do not play, unless I want to win a game. And this is not a game to me. It never was.

Everything has come and gone, fought and retreated. There have been people who have perished for this while I sat down and watched, watched as I could have done something about it. But I chose not to because I had to make sure my resources don't perish because people need me. And if you don't think so, just ask them. And I don't want to talk about it, unless something is being executed. It's not a casual conversation or dialogue. It's gut-wrenching and it hurts when I speak about it those who somehow, somehow don't have a single clue. 

Well, look at what it has cost me even with me not participating. Everything. Maybe because it wasn't mine in the first place.