Rape Victim

I don’t know what to say, I am speechless. Not really speechless. I could write volumes and about how not I’m feeling right now. I just wish I wasn’t here. I want to go somewhere that serves happiness as a happy hour special. I want to go to a place that puts consideration for others on a lavish ivory pedestal. I want to live in a world where days like these don’t exist, not even in horror stories. I want to be free from this hell that I call my life right now. Where will I find it? When will it come? I wish someone would tell me that true happiness lies with in. Then I would challenge them to take a look at my life for the past two months and find where I’ve hidden it. I sure can’t find it. I tried looking. Even told myself that I would stop looking for it and just start over. Build a new happiness starting with a fresh foundation. You know the whole happiness is a choice thing. Its not. I could wake up and say that today I will be happy, but even the happiest of people cry, and feel blue, and wonder why the sun shines. I know why the sun shines. It shines to mock me and my unhappiness. To remind me that somehow I don’t share in the warmth of the world. That I exist only in the cave that is the basement. I should rename myself Quasimodo. My posture is quite good. Still I feel like someone’s ugly stepchild. Discarded one night stand bastard baby. I wish there was a song or a poem that would wash this away. Maybe pills will help. Black people don’t get depressed. That’s what old black people say. Does that mean Im not black? I know I am. This skin is to black like I am the model for Crayola black crayons. I love that. I just didn’t think I could get depressed. I can never accurately identify my emotions, yet I know depression as soon as it shows up. It lingers like a rapist right before it finds its victim. Yes, I am getting rapped by depression. I am laying on a piss stained mattress watching myself get fucked over from a dark corner. Just watching and not running for hello. I want to scream. To fight back. But Why? For sanity or whatever that means.

 

water in my ceral,

 

KD

 

Epiphany

There is something missing.

 

I can’t put my finger on what it is. When I find it, it will be a great epiphany unlike any this soul has seen before. This epiphany I am searching for, I hope it will be stuffed full of sleeping nights and creativity and love and peace of mind. I pray that this epiphany comes in the form of a large sum of money or, a job that doesn’t require uniforms and handing leaking packages of meat. I pray this epiphany comes in the from of a book full of imagination and ideas and colors. I pray that this epiphany comes somewhere between 11:59 and insomnia, and rock-a-bye babies me into a peace. A deep sleep, something like death only a little more breathing. I pray this epiphany arrives before the changing of the leaves. I pray that I am freed of this longing to find this epiphany that I secretly search for in songs, movies, and slightly awkward traffic lights. I hope Im freed of it before I’m told to cold to  celebrate independence. Is that to much to ask for?

 

 I just want a thought that I own and can can sign with my soul. I pray that this epiphany shows itself in the form of a new start. Singing loudly at the top of its little lungs, forcing me to open my eyes and witness life for the first time. Maybe this epiphany is religion. Maybe not.

 

My mother has this habit of reading the bible in the bathroom. She always forgets to put it up when she leaves. Blame it on the old age. Still, each time I discover it, I pick it up and skim to see if somew where between the red and blakc letters is the epiphany I’ve been looking/waiting for. Most of the time its not, but somehow gives me just enough faith to smile and see the bright side of the world.

 

Im still waiting on my epiphany.

 

 

 

 

A slave to 4 am,

 

 

KD

 

Black Love

 

And the not the kind in Morris Chestnutt and Gabrielle Union movies…lol

 

OBAMA FOR PRESIDENT!

 

kd