Disease

I’m an environmentalist and that’s why I smoke.

I painted my nails red because my ex was loc.

I’m a poet and a singer, but I don’t sing folks.

Light-skinned but I got a West African yolk.

Ya think I’m joking?

If sex were a disease I’d have a cancerous tumor that started in my high school like a rancorous rumor. I was the butt and the expense of everyone’s humor cuz with sex at 14 I was the first consumer. When the sky was lunar he’d come over and spoon her. She couldn’t lose her cherry innocence any sooner. Sex was matter of factual, something very casual she loved her daddy a lot so she followed his wanton actions so she was promiscuous and yes she was ashamed so they deemed it as conspicuous. She washes dishes. She used the sponge to wash wash because the soap went down the drain and also washed away the pain.

If love were a disease I’d be a diamond. At first slowly being lied to, and then dying to be buried to 6 feet under as my mother shudders and the cows udder with no brothers. Being flushed to slugs and eaten alive by bugs as my family hugs each other in pain as the years fly by and my eyeballs turn to meatballs for the parasitic hogs; that also eat away at my draws and my heart like he did. And he did. And he did. And he did. And he did. And he did. Oh he just wanted to hit it, he broke it off with me for her, he did her because I wasn’t around as my buns turn to dust and my coffin hinges start to rust and my clothes and shoes transform into CO2 and my skin turns to oil as my hair gets course and coiled and I’m turned upside down in metamorphic mash where I’m heated and cooled and pressured and no longer dying but reborn as a diamond.

Hate.

If hate were a disease then I’d have HIV where no one could possibly save me and I would waste away like shit and pee and be placed in a category of the lowest form of healthy and I understand what hate breeds. Hate breeds separation of species, Hate breaths people who feign for me, like to phenotype me and especially those who wanna be like me try to pretend like they don’t see like me or literally see like me. Please lemme be apart of the pristine, clean, lean, beauty machines. But first I gotta lighten up my spots with cream and get a nose job because my fat nose leans. My dignity keeps me warm but now my brown weave which is a 1B 33 makes my soul freeze because when I look at myself in the mirror I no longer see me. SEE? Bad posture I lean to the side…If ignorance was a disease I’d have an STI. Chillin on a dead campus, that’s why I’m still a GDI trying to make it to grad school so I don’t live on the street side. I grew up on high street that was off of Good MAN, Full of marginalized rainbow kids that was my hood MAN. Then I was ripped away from the ROC where everyone was curious about being black like me and for real for real for real like seriously I was a slave to the white girls raiding my braids. Asking me why the hell my hair was that way.

If my words were a disease

Then ya’ll would all be sick

But I would give ya’ll a cure

Because I’m not that sick

If your minds were a disease

Then ya’ll would constantly sneeze

If your ignorance were soap

You’d be breathing in suds

If your hate were contagious

You’d be coughing up blood.

If your education was chronic, you’d be hooked on phonics

If you want a cure for these diseases then you need to research pharmacies not Eckerd or Walgreens but the one with hope and comfort and a ignorance cream to rub on your friggin noses so the next question I pose is how can I help my sistah rather than diss her? How can I help my brother rather than shoot him under cover.

I’m an environmentalist and that’s why I smoke

Sex, love, hate, and ignorance is not a joke

A disease for the things is a proper description

Just listen and get a prescription.