On the first day of a New Year
Paper bleeds. No end or beginning of where the words slap the page. Futile cuts of suffrage. Despair. On coming down to Earth, my feet hurt I land so hard. All ' s fate in love and war, and the color of my skin. No bleaching cream shows justice to the light within. I dare to dream. My hand proves the stroke of midnight only scratches the surface. My brain is not attracted to misery— as one is led to believe. This new year ' s day, I will eat my black-eyed peas and just see where that gets me. I ' ve already sworn off Gemini men. Now resolved, it makes no difference where stars cross, or the sun-signs of men begin. Their lies are already told, and I am only here to record them. The history of facts, woe begotten from crumpled lube-stained sheets, always tell the story backwards. New hope— is yet to surrender to all the days that add up to be years. But this time still, if I had my way— I ' d get everything I want.
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