...I don't know. Another stream of concious thing.

[KontanKarite]

I look in the mirror and slick back my hair
Wet from a shower from the first time
In three weeks
Hopefully I can let down my walls
To at least use full sentences
From nine dollars to less
Knowing the divide coupled with stress

A sigh of dread. I've already interviewed you.
I'll tuck my anhk under a red dress shirt
Because you're Christian and you have the keys
To the city. Fuck... I'm so pale and my hair
It's so black. I'm already the devil.

Tuck my shirt, walk out the door

Your office, I just want to do this.
I don't want to be hungry. That's all.
Your cross gleams with pride around your neck
Thank gods my ahnk is hidden safely.
I wouldn't want t0 be considered
Underqualified.

Don't you see? These words.
They're a product of thirteen hour days
Five days a week.
Thirteen hours and everyone is home
Ten hours the next day and it was short
Nine, Eleven, Twelve or Thirteen again.
Rest and do nothing.

Black hair, pale skin.
I'm already the devil.
I sell drugs. I **** and kill.

All I want is forty, Monday to Friday
With just a sigh of relief.

I'd rather march for change.
I'd rather riot and know the next day
We were all fucked. We were all cold.
An embrace then, might mean something.
I'd keep you warm. But this game.
A play of power and control.

We may never know
What we could really do for each other
Because this play of power and I fidget
Out of being nervous. Because despite
What I'm capable of, I'll have to skip another meal
At least for tonight. Another word or two.
Then a dream of wandering and dazed souls.

I could have your back if it mattered.
But you wont let me. So I can't.

[Sir Canvas Corpsey]

Oppressed by someone you could have come to support?
Love rejected because of difference?
Condemning yourself to a stereotype to appease those in power?
Moving for human rights from society?

I see all of those floating around in this but none of these themes seem to bear fruit in this particular piece. That said; I read it with one-eye, and I like it anyway.

[KontanKarite]

Yeah. I've been so whacked out by bullshit, that I haven't really been inspired at all poetically. So I've been just putting my thoughts down in a kind of prose/rant type thing.

[Sir Canvas Corpsey]

Well it worked, I guess the chaotic nature of both the poet's situation and the piece has actually helped convey that it does lack order and to put the piece into a Lawful/Ordered scenario would disrespect the intention of the author which, I guess, is to vent.

[KontanKarite]

For the most part.

Why is trying to get a job so cripplingly spooky to me? It's not like I'm trying to be a doctor or anything.

It all has to do with my feelings on authority. It's not a matter of teenaged angst, but a matter of having honest issues with people who have any semblance of "power".

Cops, employers, and the military freak me the mother fuck out.

[Sir Canvas Corpsey]

I know it's not much, but I'm offering a cyber hug