Things Fall Apart

I often attempt to separate that which is real from the imagined. Last year is a blur.. Something that I remember at times, however, some of trials I endured are much to much painful to relive. I remember thinking I wish I was a year into this and then, perhaps things would be easy. Someone asked me why do I share or write personal information on my blog. A close friend and I joke, the issues I write are predominately circumstances surrounding my life, a composite, and sometimes not my experiences. Of all, perhaps 20 are truly me. I enjoy the mayhem associated with you reading between the lines and trying to figure shyt out. Not really.
I was so tired of the trying to figure shyt out, the trying to justify my actions in my life, the not focusing on you, but focusing on me and what I'm doing. Last year it was no more your business with who I was with than it is this year. Why didn't you buy me that car since you were so concerned. You could have at least waited til we left the party before you started talking about me and my then date. No, despite what you think I never flirted with you. If another mofo accuses me of sleeping, dating, or having an intimate relationship with someone, anyone I am going to scream. So stop fcking insinuating anything else. You saw me with who I was interested in and eventually dated. I have a life outside of poetry. I have a life outside of this group. Believe it or not I became friends with someone whom I hope will be my friend thru this lifetime to the next (and none of you ever knew). Proof that I have a life exists. I have not forgot any of this. I looked into the faces of the people whom I knew were guilty of this shyt and I got mad all over again. Because I hadn't forgotten. So I wrote a poem toward the end of the year entitled Burn. It was to purge me of my anger, my pain, my demons.
A man who is becoming a friend and brother wrote a second part to it. We performed them back to back on Wednesday night. He prefaced the introduction of our performance with, "Thir13teen stepped to me like a man, better than most dudes. And said, 'keep my name out your mfing mouth.' We talked most of the night and have been cool since."Initially I was embarrassed. Didn't want to recall the anger of the moment. Didn't want to recall that as a result of the conversation I wrote Burn. He and I have similar issues relating to "people being occupied with us and out doings" for whatever reason. I am well aware of his issues and he mine. Some are the result of the same few wagging tongues. Either out of boredom or just the innate desire for those persons to escape their mundane reality. I am not a saint. I have, and will occasionally indulge as a means of escape. I just now have a better place, under the shade of an elm. And he, whispering in the ear of his songbird.
Wednesday I was reminded of my disposition, and tenacity to never forgive or forget. Not him, see, as adults we spent time navigating and negotiating the pitfalls which would prevent us from seeing each other honestly. Today it's a challenge. I struggle with the art of duplicity. I was reminded of things this week. I was reminded of gossip. I was reminded of daggers that hang clandestine-like in the hands of shadows with outstretched arms posing as hugs. I am reminded of lips stained brown and green with BS and envy that brush cheeks frontin' kisses. I am reminded of words in poems that reach to sting, maim and hurt. I am reminded, as Langston says, "We are creative people, who express ourselves with the same creative passion." I am reminded of crabs in a barrel. I am reminded that I have work to do. I am reminded that I have to be patient with myself and others when I am emotionally bankrupt. I have to remember to pray. I am reminded that I am not perfect, but perfectly imperfect and so are those around me. It doesn't help. It doesn't help. I wanna run. I wanna run. I wanna run away from the lies, the jealousy, the gossip, the broken hearts, the cheaters, the deception, the anger, the mess, the envious, the bullshyt, the duplicity, the hate disguised as love, the inability to let go, the misery loves miserable company idealogy. Ya know? And sometimes that means even running from me. Sometimes that means even running from me. And I know I can't gather the riches that this life has to offer with a clenched fist. I have to be willing to open my hands. I have to stop running. I'm tired and I want to stop running.... I just have to figure out why it keeps chasing me......