Now we was raised "fuck this life", I rose my right
Holdin' on a tight grip with death in my sight
And the dark is my light, I'm sentacle, sleep-walkin', isn't you?
Walkin' 'round town wit' a pound full of dinner food
Came a long way from a bored-day
Dead away where there's war play
Fuck grands, I'll say, rather die for my A-K
Wit' these fag ass niggaz, see-through glass ass niggaz
Only ride my niggaz, ghetto is mash ass niggaz
today is the first day of spring.
i can feel the movement of change happening all around me, though it doesn't feel like the gracious blooming this day is intended to represent. it feels perilous and craggy and i watch my footfalls carefully now.
i see my friends reaching bottlenecks with rusted on caps. i see loss that has no caveat, and hurts that i can't salve. i see tragedy and feel quiet pains being brought to crescendo without warning or warrant. obstacles bloom as they spread their filaments into the lives of the people i love. it hurts to watch it all unfold. it seems like for many of us these things burst forth in a claustrophobic little window that no one remembers signing up for. and so it goes.
reader, i present you with my war-worn empathy now. it is the best i have. i warn you that it is raw and it hurts to look directly at it. but still, i think you should. its tattered scars are evidence of the battles it has lived through before today. i want you to look at it and know this clusterfuck is not your burden to shoulder alone. i want you to trace its misshapen bones and know that you can talk to me.
someday, i want you to take solace in the knowledge that exactly half of the Universe's impervious grace is its impersonal catastrophe and academic violence. without these elements we would be just as lost as we are without its light.. now, only a fool would accept this without a grain of resentment.
but only a martyr would fail to turn that grain to pearl.
i love you, stranger.
hold up my chin, and i'll hold up yours. .