Sitting here
Behind the glass
Like a piece of an atrium
Foliage in a man-made flowering garden
They got me to admit partially that I am something that I will never be
For the sake of solitude
For monetary sustenance
For things I never had an issue with becoming one with until good ole 2011
My favorite number once and again
Well, the second part of it anyway
None of this nonsense is ever going to mend wounds that I reminesce over way too often
They want me to live like I am already in my coffin
I refuse to ever succomb
I get stronger and stronger as each moment passes because I don\'t let any of them pass me by anymore
I let many dirty boys pass by me, but I take in everything that I would have gotten out of giving them what they wanted
Hunted down by longing eyes that the curves of my flesh beckons to take into their hands
I gaze out upon the central route that marks the landscape that has been through eons of refuge and denial
The City of Crowns
My comfort zone
The land that only I condone at all times
Nobody who shares my blood agrees even remotely with me
My true family is of the Spirit that is as holy as water, the elixir of life eternal
We are the Children of the Ancient Trees
For, I have heard clearly and remember always the words spoken by God in his promise to us all in the beginning
The echo of everlasting life re-enters me now like Genesis
I am a child of my own, growing in an immortal womb
I invite the agony, the pains of labor that will force me to become fertile forever
My ova drops like the pitter-patter of a Spring rainshower and builds into the roar of a Southwestern late Summers monsoon against the rushing Rio Grande
The downpour of Heavenly juices that have lately been hiding, dormant since 2006
My memory captures still the time of their last departure
I think that was right around when something made me completely aware
The sweltering sauna that enveloped me and took away what was left of my oxygen
My memories are fond today and have been since the events of that time played out before me
I was so convinced that I would be ruined by bachelor number who gives a fuck now that I continued to allow my true knight in shining armor to continue forward with his hatchet to attack the specters that surrrounded us back then and then again, two years later
Finally, in that bastard of a year that ended in eleven
After all the fires came tearing through
Personalities, tearing me in two from 1400 miles away and back again
I was somewhat sheltered then, high above the ground
Behind towering glass monoliths that sway like the trees in the wind every now and then
It made a harsh imprint upon my soul that made me feel like foliage in an atrium
Only that one was over-ridden with the stench of humanity
I watched a young woman drop from an eleventh floor balcony, breaking a heavy potted plant into four neat sections
on the terrace below
I saw first-hand what becomes of ignorance that is handed riches that are fit for Kings
Perhaps only one King was ever actually worthy of such good fortune
I can imagine Christ as being way too humble to ever accept a jewel-crusted crown
I am born in his likeness and in his image
A thirty-three
The famous rappers all flock to my birthright
From my Egyptian roots to now, with my business that I rightfully own
In their songs, it\'s like they condone me somehow
My now shines like the Star of David
Like Sirrius
Like Orion\'s mighty belt that traverses the skies that lay directly above my tomb
I am the Pharaoh of the Dawn
I am the sonic boom
A piece of the grandest atrium that there ever was
The garden
The snake
The children of God with lives that have been truly foresaken
Waiting to be taken into the starry arboretums that exist at the far ends of the azure skies
Nothing ever really lives, therefore nothing ever really dies
Unless of course you are dumb enough to keep living out the lies that are not of God
So, there is nothing very odd about being who we are, nomatter who that may be
Or, is there?
6/3/2015