No Air

Any way they can kill us.

They will.

And they have.

For a long time.

Feeling like we are living a lie.

I wonder how many more?

How many more MUST die?

They are affected too.

Least we understand.

Killing our men is linked to our seeds.

We can’t regenerate if we can’t procreate.

Our Fathers.

Our Mothers.

Our Sisters.

Our Brothers.

I’ll ponder.

I’ll remain quiet.

My words are too many.

Maybe if we were ALL quite.

Maybe if we were not on social media.

Maybe if we locked our mouths.

Maybe if we used our hands.

Maybe if we wrote it down.

I’ll let that ponder.

If we don’t write the plan.

Then we are taking air.

Air that we all use to breathe.

Air is not free.

We are paying for air.

Least we understand.

We pay for air with bullets.

Bullets to the chest.

To the back.

We cannot speak.

The justice is too thick.

Like on Mars.

They are running home.

Least we are the water.

The fluidity of the people.

And they sell water.

Dirty water.

They experiment.

The alchemy of it all.

They make no sense.

Neither dose the death.

The death of the innocent.

Yet we buy in.

We buy in to the tragedy.

We don’t buy boats.

We don’t buy guns.

We don’t buy land.

Together.

We want to march.

I will not.

We want to rally.

Nope.

Not me.

I will write.

I will sketch.

I will listen to spirit.

This is the air they can’t steal.

I own it.

The dead give it back to me.

I accepted this.

Awkward and disconnected from drama.

I listen.

I listen to the mommas.

To the pappas.

The children.

The backlash.

The reasons.

No one has a reason.

The fruit is strange.

I’ll have to see.

If we keep falling from the tree.

We won’t have enough to eat.

Consumed by the darkness.

And the sun shines everyday.

Yet we forget.

We have normalized.

We are looking for relief.

Relief from the pain.

We’ve come too far.

Yet we are still in the culture of the noose.

Bound by trickery.

Searching for home.

I wanna invest in a boat.

I wanna go back to the water.

Where my chances are greater.

To live among the sharks.

Is this about the state of Black America?

If so…

What kind of life is there for us here?

Living in a land that steals our air.

#ICantBreathe

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