Scratch that
I see a police car go by. They float ever so slowly. They see what I see. The men go to the back of the building. They stand along the sidewalk. They get in their cars. They never go away. Only the police go away. They come and then they go. Soon, things get back to normal. It only tells me that I’m by myself. That was something I always knew.
I must admit that I am afraid of them. I am afraid of what they could do to me. I’ve seen them kill each other without question. What would they do to me? They have guns and I have a bat. How can I survive with those odds. That’s why I keep my head lowered. That’s why I always look away. That’s why I acknowledge them when they acknowledge me. And in the end I say nothing at all.
Clap.
I sometimes feel it coming. A little rush of love. Something swells up and I feel like I’m about to burst.
Been away for awhile. Gotta give it a week before I return. Before I leave. Before I come back and forth again and over. Hard trying to put two words together. Debra doesn’t deserve the love of another human being. The story is a continued ramble without line and format. Can’t put more than two words together.
I will eat chicken… scratch that. Fuck it. I will return. I will dominate. I have not forsaken thee.
Ha.
Pull it together.
The rain came. I’m sitting, watching television. I get up and go take a dump. A knock on the door. I’m hoping it’s Publisher’s Clearing House. Why doesn’t the van ever come to neighborhoods like mine. I open the door. A man stares back. He pushes his way through the door. I hit him with a beer bottle. My girl prays to Jesus. And we fade to black.
So, I’m getting up and going to sleep and getting up, nonstop, no change. And I’m sleepy. And my face is burning. And I find that I need a stocking cap to wear over my head and face. Maybe plastic surgery. Happy Birthday, James. Keep focus. Keep focus.
Now I have a girlfriend. And chicks are coming out of the woodwork. And I’m thinking, maybe betting, that I’ll never get this action ever again. So, I contemplate cheating on my girl. How many times in a man’s life does he get to hit grade A cootchie. It’s falling from the sky. And I’m comparing a life with my girl to the chance of banging some hot ass mamas without her finding out. And I think I got a good chance of getting away with it. And I’m thinking about going for it. And the only thing holding me back is me. Cause I feel like shit.
But it’s free ass. Good ass. Good ass attached to a good body. And a nice face. Several nice faces. And I’m beating on my chest, telling myself I better go for it.
One and a lifetime chance.
One in a lifetime.
I try not to commit a deliberate sin. I recognize that I’m going to do it anyhow, because I’m human and I’m tempted. And Christ set some almost impossible standards for us. Christ said. “I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman with lust has in his heart already committed adultery.”
I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times. This is something that God recognizes I will do — and I have done it — and God forgives me for it.
I’m coming, mothafucka.
I’m coming…
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