sc poetry

Please don’t tell me
the sugarcoated version
I want to hear
what the first thing you think of when you wake up is, what song you listen to when you’re sad.
I want to know if sometimes
you feel like your insides are forming into a hurricane, and you don’t know where to direct the emotions, because there’s no where safe to evacuate to.
I want you to feel heard
by more than just my ears,
and touched
by more than just my hands.
I want you to know
that there is another living, breathing, human that exists miles away from where you are right now, but I am closer than ever.
I would give anything to wrap you up
in a warm blanket just like a burrito, and
sing you your favorite song, while you pretend I sound remotely good.
I would give anything to keep you safe,
to remind you that what your father said about you isn’t true. It never was.
I would give anything
to be there right this second, but for now,
all I have to give you are these words.
I want you to feel heard by more than just my ears. I want you to feel touched by more than just my hands. I want you to feel seen, by more than just your past.

I feel so connected to you, and I can’t wait for what the future holds, my darling.

I wonder, if you removed my skin and bones, and could see only my soul, how battered, bruised and broken it would be. I wonder if then, you’d be able to see how much my heart is bleeding.
—  SC RoseMusic Box Earth 

there is something fragile and beautiful and breaking inside of me

ive felt it from my cold toes creeping across linoleum to the hot tender bruises fighting to make themselves seen among the old

i feel it in every breath someone else takes every noise my movements make every bump and break and bruise and ache

i will feel it when nothing else can be felt

this isnt your fathers house you dont have to sneak around but i do i do though i feel guilty (none of you would hurt me) though i hate myself (get over it) though you have been nothing but calm and reassuring and much gentler than i deserve

there is something fragile and beautiful and breaking inside of me and at times i cling to it when i have nothing else this feeling of

not quite drowning but unable to swim

not quite suffocating but never breathing

not quite sleeping but rarely awake

inertia -
a tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged

there is something fragile and beautiful and breaking inside of me and i cant make it stop no matter how many soft words or sweet promises im given because experience shows that when i get ugly youll be rid of me and im living every day waiting for the other shoe to drop

behaving as though everyone in the world has a personal vendetta against me and if i can just catch them at the right time theyll stop with their charade

behaving as though everything anyone does for me comes with a list of terms and conditions and if i dont read them carefully everything will fall apart

behaving as though im a caged animal because thats all ive ever been and all i know how to be

quicksilver -
something that moves or changes very quickly

sometimes i may taste like honey but i will only ever be poison

when your brother is born, the stars do not sing—
they S C R E A M as your mother weeps for shame:
blood on her thighs. blood on your hands. blood
on the horns of a beast’s head. on an infant’s body.
the world feels tilted somehow, but you manage
like you always have, stitching up your father’s sins
and putting your mother back together and holding
the little bull boy gently because no one else will.
 
// his calf-cries keep you up at night wondering
if your father will give up family, give into fear
and you worry about this cruel child creature
with endless constellations in his eyes. //
 
he can’t talk with a mouth never made
for conversation, so you teach him to speak
with his hands. he is fierce and furious and
curious and he crumbles quickly—but
he can be kind.  you know he can be kind.
you know he drinks up emotion like you
inhale knowledge. he has human hope cradled
in his chest—you’ve heard it. you know.
 
// when he is taller than you but still so young
he asks you, am i a monster? he has the angriest fists
you’ve ever seen. because he is brave, he wants
the truth. and because you are honest, you give it to him:
o brother of mine, we are all a little monstrous behind our masks. //
 
he disappears the day you dance at knossos.
when you question your mother she looks
askance; your father will not see you. later
you hear rumors of minos and his new labyrinth
that holds a monster and your heart turns to ash
because you know, you know and you wish
you didn’t.

i. origins by amc 

(excerpt from the witching hour, a paper fairies chapbook)

FOR MY FOLLOWS IN THE NC,SC, ATL, DMV AREA THIS ID FOR YOU!! in less than two weeks, there will be an artist showcase event being held at the Showroom Gallery on July 25th. Performances range from poetry/spoken word, singing, dance, rap and freestyles of many kinds. There will also be artwork displayed around the gallery(7 of mine being among others). Tickets online are $6, $10 at the door. Come and support your local and distant black artist. All people are welcome. Can’t wait to meet yall. Stay cool.