A poem by Rashad
Sometimes I feel all alone,
all alone in a desert of darkness.
Dry and bewildered,
I'm a ghost,
a transparent human,
walking right through the flesh-wound prick
of cactus arms saying with pointed pain:
This is insane.
I can feel the wet coyote nose of anxiety
rubbing against my paranoia,
sniffing my footprints,
following my hurt shadow,
breathing in my cologne of fear,
rearing its canine head to the emergence
to pounce on my torso of insecurity.
In the dark,
I'm attacked from behind
and bitten on the shoulder blade.
My neck is twisted with resistance
from the watermark horror of not knowing.
Not knowing why I deserved to be so alone!
Unable to see,
I push my hands out
into the jaws of despair,
growling,
taken me down
into the sand of trauma.
There is nothing out here but loneliness,
like no one is alive,
like I never existed,
like I've been here
all by myself
since I've been born.
Every part of my spirit has been bitten,
swallowed,
regurgitated,
and eaten again.
I'm an enemy of the state of well-being,
left to die
in the open air
for all to see.
But no one can see me.