How I Learn
What I Saw, This 4th Day, Of This 5th Month, That Year
When I turned 18, America forcibly taught me my life was less valuable than a woman’s. I don’t know where you’re from. I don’t know what you learned. I don’t know how you learned it. I know I didn’t invite you here. I know I didn’t ask you anything. I know I didn’t say anything to you. I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know if you want my money. I don’t know if you want my attention. You just appeared here all on your own, a MAPS spelled backwards, deaf, mute and blind to any real me, seeing you. I waited for you to leave, as is my nature, but my source of energy died.
So how did you know how old I almost was? How do you know I shave my head? How did you know it’s hard to be me? How did you know I cannot catch on? How do you know I don’t know what I am doing? How did you know I am an asshole? How did you know I am terrified of you? Do you really think I am fine?
Do you really want to thank me?
“ They Don’t Get Life The Way I Get It “
Dead Man Circle
I Travelled To The Place Of A Powerful Dead Man & I Looked In Every Direction At Once