So Many Catastrophes and Feelings To Manage

I often feel. Big feelings. Can’t breath, not sure if I won’t fall to my knees, feelings. Collapse. Fold over. Kaput. All done. Nothing to see here. Kidding. Not kidding. Work. Three times, work. One times three. Work. Work. Work. Worker bee, is me. Write in my closet. Where no one can see. Edit, edit, edit those voices. Tapping toes. Staring at the screen. While my heads all spin. Spinning heads. Future fear tinged. Ulcer makes an encore. My future. Perfect. Enough? My future. I don’t care what they think. I care. I care. Sometimes. My ulcer has made an encore. Afghans, tricked. Africans, tricked. Indigenous, tricked. Mexicans, tricked. By tricksters. Grifters. Makes my soft heart, hurt. Kidnapped Black babies. Kids in cages. Spun my head since the age of 8. I need an exorcist. Exorcism. Mr. Howard is without a home. No shoes, no food. Weepin’. Screamin’. People sleepin’. Poppin'. Snortin'. Smokin'. Poor Earth. I see you World. Foxy monsters that walk on by the weeping. Eyes averted from "these" Emaciated. Thirsty. "Blobs." They see blobs. Those foxy monsters just walk on by. Walk ooon byyyyyy. But:

I. Am. A. Spirit. I still dance on fire. While SCREAMS fall outta my mouth. Universe holds my hand tight. While Lights dance above my natural fight. I am LOVE. While I am ANGRY. I am Love, and yet, I bellow every day, “ENOUGH!!!! Enough. Wake up.” (Clap yo hands to it)