Dear, Tanisha

I am sorry every love poem is about you Tan

I ran from you, my first love

My only love. It has been years since I was your man

Though I was young nothing has changed since I disposed of

You. I swear I didn’t come to fool ya or make you feel less than

Anything but your God above.

Them and I

People like me are created by society

People like them embody it

What’s the difference? Is it as calculable as numerology

Or is it simple and doesn’t require great wit

Society chisels its villains perfectly

Therefore I am its monster socially and in holy writ

And they are everyone’s favorite found and adored heartily

What is the same some may ponder hoping to outwit

We both grow weary of the embrace of society

Tightrope

Ever walked the tightrope between belief and disbelief

Left with no relief and stalked by finite remnants of hope

I can’t let it catch me; it’s a particular type of thief

an alchemist that takes the pain and transmutes it into a rope

anticipating that one day you learn to form a noose

hopeful

I keep forgetting that we are in hell

The salesmen are selling snow cones

But they are invisible and you pay first

Because damnation wouldn’t be effective without hope

You are who you are

Why can’t I accept that

My cup runneth over with insecurities

I’ll never believe in anything again

The gods are dead like the stars in the night sky

The devils are bored with tempting human fiends

I know you heard this all before

I just don’t want to be a footnote in another’s sob story

I already am the man of honor at my pity party

Let us both agree that I am wrong

Thereby deserve the most attention

I feel closer to God as the hatred for me mounts

Doubts fade as my belief in humans disappear

There has to be a God cause all I see on earth are frauds

They spin webs of deceit using all their effort in the feat

They want you to squirm as they fake victim hood

I have never seen so many victims with bloody hands and gristle between the teeth.