journal – Artistic Apathy

Truth in Cliche

What is my truth?

How can I express words I can’t even fathom?

What keeps me separate from everyone else?

I feel like an alien. An alien whose spacecraft just landed on planet Earth.

I live in a wasteland. There’s nothing here. Nothing but dried rocks and hardly anything salvageable.

I must come to terms with this chasm deep within myself.

It longs to be filled with something sweet, like the promise of love.

I’m wondering if such a thing exists for me. True love, that is.

If we’re not here to love then what are we here for?

Surely not the promises of glory or acclaim.

Nay, those aren’t the things I seek.

Sometimes I close my eyes and start to dig. I never know what I might excavate.

This land I live in is like an excavation site and new things turn up every day.

I must remain strong. It’s the way of this world.

Memories pushed to the side sit atop the surface. The only way out is through.

Beautiful Black Boy

Hey beautiful black boy, how’s your mental health?

When is the last time someone checked in on you?

Hey beautiful black boy…

Our ancestors went through too much for you to be so hard on yourself.

Remember where you come from. Warriors. Legends. Tribes. Kings and queens. Dynasties.

Hey beautiful black boy. Your lips aren’t too big. They’re just right.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to like things other than Hip-Hop, Basketball and shiny jewelry.

Hey beautiful black boy. You can be with anyone you want. F*ck what they told you.

Hey beautiful black boy. It’s okay to cry sometimes.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to not be so tough all the time.

It’s also okay to use big words and vocabulary.

Hey beautiful black boy, there’s nothing wrong with working a regular job.

There’s nothing wrong with not being a player.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to be romantic sometimes.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to show your artistic side.

It’s okay to be kind to everyone. Children, grown-ups and even animals.

Hey beautiful black boy. It’s okay to wear pink, wear flowers in your hair, paint your nails and to like girly things.

Hey beautiful black boy. It’s okay to like the same sex.

Hey beautiful black boy. When they look at you as a savage, just remember that they don’t know the real you.

Hey beautiful black boy…

Elevator

Stuck in this elevator…

Pitch black. Can’t see my way out.

It feels like it’s not moving, like it’s not going anywhere.

I crouch in a corner of this cold steel cage.

I grip my knees and rock back and forth trying to console myself.

The elevator is my own mind.

Constantly facing and fighting my own insecurities and doubts about myself.

It’s like being stuck in a pitch black elevator. Everywhere you look, darkness.

There’s no emergency button either. I have to be down for the ride.

Where is this elevator going? Up or down? I just hope it’s up for my sake.

It’s getting harder and harder but somehow I feel in control.

A strange feeling.

Will I finally reach the top floor?

Respite

I feel like the prisoner in my own mind…

Longing to break free…

What’s it going to take to break this spell that’s on me?

What’s real and what’s fake? What’s true and what’s false?

Lines are blurred and I escape reason and dance a dance full of folly

Afraid of what the future holds. I’d do anything to hear a word of encouragement. To hear something comforting.

I feel like I’m defective. Must be something wrong with me…

I try to fix myself but if I’m the problem then how can I fix things myself?

I’m altogether burdened and long for respite.

Who will be the shoulder for me to lean on? Where can my soul find its peace at long last?

I search everywhere for answers, frantically, not a moment of rest, restlessly looking for the answer…

I

I don’t want to ruin this perfect moment. I’m so sorry that I’m thoughtless and think too much all at once.

I just want the song to echo. I want to feel it in my bones. I want to fly. I want the melody under my wings as I soar. A language that blurs barriers. Cultures becoming one. Things closing in on each other and becoming closer.

I find my power in my heart. Deep within my emotions.

I feel like I’ve been forgotten. Nobody bothers to keep up with me these days. I feel like an apparition. But I know I’m here for so much more. So… much more. I want to be all that I can be.

Then, why am I still asking for permission? The person I’ve been waiting for all along: Find them in me. I gain strength to fight another day. To live another day.

I don’t want to live as a coward. I want to take risks. I want to be bold. And proclaim it from the highest mountain.

Oh God, hear my prayer and establish me high above any worry or stress.

I long to be lifted up.