Jolomi Amuka - Do You See Me

It's 3: 58am in New York city,
My pen painting patterns, while my tongue drowns in whiskey.
I heard dines-ties have always been created on tragedies,
Tragedies make the morning news,
And legacies are only remembered if the legend dies horribly.
Two months shy and 6 years away from 30,
My life a catacomb,
Decorated with loneliness and too much self-pity.
My various talents a facade like plaster of paris,
From which my chandeliers fall from these watery walls.
And every few years I meet a certain someone who sends my depression into coma,
Covering me with another blanket of bullshit, till I forget the color of my skin.
And when I shed, I shed painfully,
Pealing of my flesh, till vultures feed on my bloody wounds
And on my crusted scabs, bugs lay their eggs.
My father is the most tortured man, I ever met,
Diligently teaching himself to never feel pain,
Till I never feel pain,
Even in his death.
I want to visit all my ex's naked with a rose in hand,
Kneel and apologize for never giving them a chance to really see me.
I try to turn my life stories into paintings,
But I'm constantly prosecuted by the people closest to me;
So instead I recline into this cain chair,
Self practicing chemotherapy,
Still struggling with nightmares I had when I was 7,
With flashbacks of my father's belt on my bare bony bum,
Molding my veins into titanium.
I feel a grief that can't be spoken,
Were words are constantly on vacation,
Allow me share this blank canvas,
A part of me worthy of your interpretation.
Do you see me?
I'm naked,
More naked than I have ever been with all my clothes off.




09/10/12. Hollywood, California.

Jolomi Amuka

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-you-see-me-13/