I don’t want to know about the things you love that I already know many people love.
Tell me about the things you love that are illegible.
Everyone loves music – but what does that mean?
You love everything? You love talent? You love electronic?
Humans have always loved music. We love singers, we love instruments, we love drums.
Tell me things you love that I wouldn’t expect or understand.
How are you?
Never means “how are you”
It means, this is the first step towards what I truly want to know about you
Do you give yourself away for free sometimes?
Could I somehow be lucky enough to be in the right place at your wrong time?
How do you survive all of this?
Tell me about you…
I love music, food, and going out with friends.
I suppose some people would say “I like staying at home, watching TV, and playing board games”
I guess I don’t want to know what “type” of person you are,
I want to know who you are.
Could you even tell me?
Do you know?
I spend more time thinking about the world
What I should be doing right now
Than actually doing it
And I resent people giving me advice to just go for it,
Because I’m scared.
What if I get to the laundry room and there’s already someone there?
That’s 5 minutes of my life I will never get back!
What if I walk outside carrying my laundry basket and police decides to see me for what I sometimes forget I am coded,
That’s theft of what I wanted for my last moments.
Which I think about often because
This world is so overwhelming
I want to be in love today, married tomorrow, and philosophizing the end well before it happens
So it never catches me off-guard
I want to exist outside of the traditional paths to happiness
I don’t want to want anyone at all, I just want to be happy in myself
I spend the majority of my time needing people.
Wanting good company, good laughs, and great conversation.
don’t want to work on myself to clear my vision enough to find it the best way .
I believe in lazy things
I rely on the universe pulling me along my life passively
And call this “sight”
Call this “spirituality”
Call this “religion”
For all of my thinking and pondering,
I have no idea what’s going on with me!
Probably because I really don’t want to know
About the bombing
And the killing
And the fact that lots of white people ACTUALLY HATE Black people
People that look like my Mom, that could easily be my mom
Could be my sister, my brother,
In a way that is implied family.
If I fly away to a better life on the back of my education and grace,
If I cut the gold chords and decide my own fate,
Will the shade my stationary wings create,
Disintegrate into the light,
Exposing everything I love to the world that hates it?
Hates the Black light skinned girl who is moral and sexual and confident and still soft
And the Black family that is her everything
That if anything should ever happen to them
All the anger she has for the violence committed by men and the world against her
Will trail out of her hands in silk ties and silk slips and silky soft lips and silk smooth speech
Spin nooses for enemies of this state
And they will ask her what happened,
Why she is harder than before
And she will say she has nothing anymore.
So tell me about you?
I love my family.
And I resent being subject to a regime
That makes me have to define myself to you
By the things I’m afraid to lose.
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