Like no one else

Childhood,
such an innocent experience.
Regardless of the crimes that were committed on such young souls.
They remain innocent.
True innocence,
such a beautiful thought.

Think about it.

Innocence.

Something we have forgotten the feel of,
realizing certain stains don't wash off.

Youth,
When i was a kid,

I wasn't given much.
Stories well hidden in my mind.

Few have surfaced.
I lied,
many have surfaced.

The few that haven't scare me the most.

Because when certain memories surface,
there is something dark that follows it.

When people have seen my darkness,
their eyes,
their Look,
Their reaction,
Disgusted.

Never knew such could exist.

There has been a lot of anger in me.
And this is in a retrospective way,
I hope this doesn't scare anyone.

I would imagine it would,
or could.

Regardless,




regardless.........

Anger was the only force that kept me driven.

Anger,
Anger.

People do not understand anger.

that's why when people are so quick to get angry,
I laugh.

Pathetic,
I think

Just fucking pathetic.

YOU don't KNOW real ANGER.
Because if you DID.

BULLSHIT,

doesn't make you lift a god damn finger.

But hey,
people are different,
some are easier offended than others.
We have to respect that.

What a fucking JOKE!

goodness.

Passive-aggressive?

She just called me that.
Yes you.

I suppose writing this here,
and you reading it there,
does seem passive aggressive.

My last days?

I just want to say goodbye to you

every chance I get,

the way that I want.


But come on Lady,
I have been begging you for years now.

I just want to see if you can return it for a couple of days,
it's okay,
I know you got commitment issues.

But damn,



But Damn...............



I believe I am a sculpture.

I am the Artist.

I know beauty.


And my motivation,
My earliest.

My deepest.
My strongest,
motivation.

Has been Anger.

Really,
no exaggeration.

True feeling of isolation.

Young and old.


Remember,
first grade.

FIRST

Grade.


Teacher said to point at me,

"POINT AT HIM!"

so they did,

and so they did.

"Laugh at him?"

I was confused.

I didn't even make a joke?

But you get it though right?


I remember when the school principle grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head on his office desk, 2nd Grade.

second.


Listen,
i know what you are thinking.

but this is just what I am willing to talk about,
regardless of knowing that perhaps no one is listening.



But heyyyyyyyy.

I fuckin punched in faces of any racist,
male or female.

Oh yes,
i have,
when i was under the age of 9,
given a little girl a proper whoopin.

I don't give a fuck!

Anger,
like I said,
people do not really understand.

I understand that there is someone who is even angrier than me,
looking at me,
telling me,
You don't understand anger.




I understand that.

But I do believe I am the person,
who lives at the border,
who just made it out.
Not letting anger,
CONTROL, me.

And for those who have not made it out.

Where anger conquered,
YOU DROWN IN HATE.


Hate,

Ahhhhh.

People don't understand hate.


You that do,
see as I do,
How people,
use,
HAte so ordinary.





HATE,
any boy girl looks at me the wrong FUCKING way.

I have beaten up more german white boys then anyone you'll ever meet.

Fuck 'em.

Is what I said.


When I was angry.


PAtrick.

The most racist,
kid, I think.

Perhaps the most violent racist.
There were kids who were more racist towards me,
actually one.

Dominic,
was his name.

Skinny small kid,
talked shit behind a crowd.

Soon,
not even the crowd could protect him.

Anyway,
Patrick,
i believe was more violent than racist.
His racism just directed his violence towards me.
only me.
The Only kid,
who fought back.

I forgot the Moroccan kid's name.

Yugoslavian Kid,
Mevluddin.

Anyways,
point is.

No one fought back.
NO ONE!

No one.....

Not even my brother,
or sister,
or father,

But my mother,
she fought back.

That is why I LOVE her.
She taught me that I suppose.

Your earliest memory as a child is seeing your mother,
fighting,
fist fighting,
two people,
in an elevator.


That was kindergarten.

We moved from that housing complex when I graduated kindergarten.

I had a crush on my teacher,
and I had my first kiss,
with,
Katarina.
She was cute.

Why she play hard to get though?


I hope my teacher did not get jealous?
why I can't remember her name?
She didn't give me a kiss?

Or I was just too scared.

Nahhh,


Patrick though,


I lost early ones,
Humiliated,
because when he won,

all the kids got to celebrate.

they like to throw punch,
when they celebrate.

Pussies only come near a beast, when it's DOWN.

Let's be honest,
that is what little bitches,
and I mean that in the most behavioral way,
Like to do.


I have been spat on,
while down.

And that is how I knew Dominic was the biggest racist.
the spitting.

I mean come on.


Well that is how I know now.

Part of rough times is,
you do not have time to process things.

Especially being 7.

I reacted,
and did,
what my instincts told me to do.

I have been sharpening my blade,
before many.


That is why I see humor in so much,
the shit people take serious.


The shit that people take serious....


First grade,
Patrick won that year.

gave me some beat downs.

2nd and 3rd,

Mine.

Except no one celebrated when I won.

Fuck  'em.

Is what I said.

I celebrated.
I know how to celebrate.

Dragged him......

there was this rectangular area with plants in the middle.
But it was waist level,
so all around people could sit.

The sitting area was made out of concrete,
is my point.


I dragged him over,
he had long hair such as myself.

Grabbed him,
smashed his head,
believe it when i tell you,
i split his head open.

I mean he started bleeding pretty bad.
That's splitting someone's head right?

Then,

He laid on his stomach,

Got on his knees with both his forearms on the floor,
full stretched.

I sat on his back,
pulled the back of his hair,
and started squirming,

and everyone was watching,
and everyone was watching,

I was calling him a wild hog.

I cannot help to think,
but to make gay jokes.

I do understand if someone was trying to explain the story using the words that I used,
there would be a need for phrasing.


But these words are really what happened.

I didn't care what it looked like.

All my focus was to
humiliate,
degrade,
dehumanize,
him.

And they were all watching.

A stupid little girl would say something,
i would beat the shit out of her.
Kick her in the fuckin face.


Anger,
does that.

Like I said,
I barely made it past the border.
And my stories are not even that bad.

I believe.

3rd grade.

I fought cleaner.

I just did.

Don't ask me why.
I didn't know back then.

So why does it matter that I know now?

Joshua,
Jewish kid.

My nigga,
shout out.

Tim,
lived with his father.

Mother was gone.
My nigga,
Shout out.



Alexander,
My best friend.
Shout out.



We live our lives,
and
experience.
dark,
harmful,
poisonous,
contagious,

Through it,
I held on to one thing.

Don't ask me why,
I just did.


Beauty,
and let it drag me.

Beauty alone has dragged me out of the dark.

It's the only thing that hasn't left me.
Regardless of who left me, or who hasn't accepted me.

I am a sculpture,
I am the artist.
I Know Beauty,
I see Beauty.
Like no one else.