This poem was inspired by a Jean Michel Basquiat Painting
My hate for you is more so an idea
Not the distaste of your existence.
I’m forced to come face to face with my demons,
as their shadows trail in the distance.
Mark my words with anxiety and confusion
My paint brush dipped in the universe to paint a black image.
I thought there was something wrong with me because my words are two fold.
Not fitting in the mold or lines you surround me with like caged blind birds with no assistance.
My center folds because my centerfolds stick out like a sore thumb .
They are numb from decaying while on display.
My truths are uncomfortable but they entertain you.
Just laugh, like the voices in my head at my dismay.
What could pull me out of my sleep at 4 a.m?
Can’t i have a little more time in my gutter garden?
Before the day buffers like interrupted signals crossing paths with others walking.
I made a mask out of your thoughts of me.
In some ways, it brings me peace.
Everyday i add a new layer to this mask and wait for it to harden.
My heart knows nothing but feels everything.
Who knew a curse could be rewarding.