Billipedilus
My kind has been here for centuries, before the fires of the deep, erupted the secret it held and formed our current plantations, where these blacks dwell, I am no longer sure if we’re not in hell.
I am a Billiped and I have skateboarded most of this ocean’s deep, hoarded my memory sticks with tales that will never be mentioned.
The highway nights, the constant fights, destroy the habitations I cared for. It is now a ghetto of lost souls, forever drones, conversations don’t happen anymore, the languages are in confrontations like dishwashing liquid and oil slick butter croissant residues left on a plate. No this is a world before.
The night seems ever present now and only one color. It used to have a mirage feeling throughout its denseness. The black we slept in was a multicolored fan, whose swing-swing half circled an air of illusions; this was our cinema, our nightly tan.
My ancestors could once walk a digital silk screen of endless shades, sharp blades of legible tones, the ocean sky would moan, more often back then.
It could be that we are transparent cells, navigating the current of those who wish to see. We bypass the arrogant stares which bypass us. Were known to demonstrate a sass staunch, with such a malevolent brass and deliberate launch that we’ve been told we’re best left alone. This is fine, they despise us and we shun them.
All is not lost in this new home of carcasses, were bones crack in their constant change. You can hear them scream, when a further realization of this insecurity makes relevant that they don’t belong here, for this its there price, to always live in fear.
These stinking mixed races, transforming rate faces, soul searching language stripped, mangle lipped slave cases,
These dropped from above, whipped and chain marked scrubs, wishing for a forever death where they thought they’d find love.
These no currency fools, soul needing shoals, stranded amongst each other, deathly vein human kind tools, now rest in wait like one hind leg raised stupid mules.
You think I hate hard but I’m telling truth, that since they came the bottom is low, the dark is deeper then ever before and the sanctity we once held lives here no more.
I am a Billiped and I have skateboarded most of this ocean’s deep, hoarded my memory sticks with tales that will never be mentioned.
The highway nights, the constant fights, destroy the habitations I cared for. It is now a ghetto of lost souls, forever drones, conversations don’t happen anymore, the languages are in confrontations like dishwashing liquid and oil slick butter croissant residues left on a plate. No this is a world before.
The night seems ever present now and only one color. It used to have a mirage feeling throughout its denseness. The black we slept in was a multicolored fan, whose swing-swing half circled an air of illusions; this was our cinema, our nightly tan.
My ancestors could once walk a digital silk screen of endless shades, sharp blades of legible tones, the ocean sky would moan, more often back then.
It could be that we are transparent cells, navigating the current of those who wish to see. We bypass the arrogant stares which bypass us. Were known to demonstrate a sass staunch, with such a malevolent brass and deliberate launch that we’ve been told we’re best left alone. This is fine, they despise us and we shun them.
All is not lost in this new home of carcasses, were bones crack in their constant change. You can hear them scream, when a further realization of this insecurity makes relevant that they don’t belong here, for this its there price, to always live in fear.
These stinking mixed races, transforming rate faces, soul searching language stripped, mangle lipped slave cases,
These dropped from above, whipped and chain marked scrubs, wishing for a forever death where they thought they’d find love.
These no currency fools, soul needing shoals, stranded amongst each other, deathly vein human kind tools, now rest in wait like one hind leg raised stupid mules.
You think I hate hard but I’m telling truth, that since they came the bottom is low, the dark is deeper then ever before and the sanctity we once held lives here no more.
posted by Afrikun at 12:19 PM
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