DEATH.

i wrote this poem for class. so:

Black
Immobile. Like the bird when it cracked against the window while you were studying for your 4th grade division test. Sleep without the stimuli of giving it to Kim Kardashian on the lost continent of Atlantis while dressed as Ronald McDonald for some reason. You know when you have pink eye and you rise from sleep but your eyelids won’t move because they’re fused with purple and green crust? I’d assume its something like that. Except they don’t break free. They don’t bring you into the world as your eyes did when they were finally splashed with goldenrod hues and your mother’s cookie dough voice so she could bring you to the doctor. You. You don’t break anything. There is no break to begin with. Cancer, Killing, AIDS, Anemia, Hemophilia, Homicide, Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma- Shit just walking outside and getting hit by a Buick doing 60.I don’t believe in invisible men with eight arms and the head of an elephant resurrecting after being crucified with two tablets coming down the mountain. I believe in Black. And I don’t want to.