I Don't Think Of You

I don't think of you

It's been over two decades since I first met you.
Even longer since I even bothered to get your name and number.
Yeah, it's cool you tried to make me fall, you tried to replace me, and even try to stalk me to pick a fight.
All because I am queer, you try to make me feel less than pure.
It's just like you thinking, I am the one you think you are waiting, at a indoor barbeque I bet you are still looking for a reason to pull out your videophone, try body shaming me while you film me on your video screen, but you a cutie.
You want me naked, you approaching me with your pants grooming low, no need for a Macon collabo.
I'm nearly three decades younger than the two of you.
Even four times smaller, and over one foot shorter than the both of you.
At the same time I know I am one million times wiser than you, so what I am queer, that is why I have VIP tickets to Astro project myself eternally through places successfully, such as the Greensboro News and record online fine arts gallery.
Is this the reason why you always have to deny me, change your mind and try reconsider me, or do you need to be the primary pride of my eyes envy, write the graphic novel how to seduce me?
Turn around and try trademark me?
In a word try copyright me?
Out of strife and desperation try to start a fight with me?
Take time to get know all about me?
Trying to gather all your troops on other ways and days when and how to approach me?
Is this the reason why you want me on disability?
Am I the read your right hand is so anxious about getting rid of a thousand ways so secretly?
Is that the drive you feel like you're my authority?
Through self righteous indignation to tic for tac how to brass me?
Take the situation out of hand and call authorities just to cuff me?
I know you don't think of me until you suspect I am in good money.
Is that the reason why you always stalking me?
You just want to keep up to remove me out of the stars, outline the marksmanship of my controversy for a Sense of pride.
Now I have moved on, I don't think of you.
Just ridding in circles postmarking shoe prints, tire prints into the pavement for blocks trying to time me for the beehive.
Wishing you could bleach my earthly tones pale, you're the one that thinks you're supreme, can effortlessly concur the world by duplicating and exceeding my stability.
All you do is prey, wait for me to make a move and then you try to attack, showing no sign of humanity.
When you finally finished you'll realize; download, digest in your soul how incapable you two truly are; the leastwise thing you can do is cry out for a plea, I'm running in front of everything again, please take me down.
Just to make someone push more obstacles in my way.
It's why I don't think of you.
I'm doing fine on my own, on my pathway to higher ground.
I don't even know you.
I Don't need nobody to hold my head down, then black my eye out for money.
No, I Don't need you to prey on me to move beneath you, because I am happy without you, and can sleep all night without falling apart.
I don't think of you.
Don't you know I don't think of you.
Because even when you loose your mind, forget your thoughts, crying out for me to be rejected and delivered into abuse and slavery, you are beautiful too.
You want me not, you want me back.
You want me some, you want me low.
You want me compressed, like a large file shrinked and reduced.
All to dumb down my triumph, and deny the legion of my shadows within.
You want me back, you want me down, but at the end this assembly line is mine.
You want complete control, you want to run the police, and take away my sunshine.
You cannot save me maybe until you redirect yourselves at the end of the line.
I don't think of you, even though I know you want to convert me to Christianity.
I'm a rae of angelic light of the rainbow, a burning passion to take as many giant uncut missiles as my racing heart can stand.
A blazing fire that can be fed through air, and through mounds of Fiji water, nothing and nobody can tame the fire inside.
I'm an angel in all my gay apparel.
I'm sure you probably go on a Wednesday wonderingly, pacing back and forth the floor boards of Islam, how to out Burlesque the sign.
No matter how long the war, or how violent the fight.
I don't think of you, you're just another chapter in my past.
There's nothing you can do about these sticky situations.
You fumbling around in my life to watch me suffer and try to convince me to turn into myself.
Looking for my attendance.
Looking for attention and acceptance from my bloodline I see you for the what you really are.
You're insecure, needy, seeking revenge, because you can't fulfill acceptance in particular from my family.
I don't even know your name.
Why do you think that you are so important?
I don't think of you, putting your dick on the shoulder of every ebony girl who is not yours and neither looking for you.
Although they are of Cleopatra decent, with their Afro , sundresses, designer shades, whoop earrings, that their momma on occasion paid for.
I never seen someone so desperate to make it seem, like I am so insecure, and inferiority.
Unwanted, unworthy, and average that sir and miss I blot you out of sight; out of mind.
I don't think of you.
Oh, so go Joe just get it over with and go play hangman with yourself.
I don't think of you, because I know who I am.
I've got both feet on solid ground, with my head up in the clouds, a new perspective, and altitude of life.
With nothing but ambition, a sense of a new direction, don't just wait and see the immortal fire in my eye, I was just thinking to myself.
I'm fine; I'm free; I'm finally getting mine, I'm going on without you pinning me down; oppressing me, serving nothing more than pennies for me, for all my quality labor, but I guess this is all you've got.
I don't need you!!!
Thank you Lord!!!
Don't know how to belong to the earth.
My sixth sense; my second September smooth as pure gold.
I have a purpose in life; a few delays and detours, but I don't think of you.
I've got my own KJV Bible, some amazing grace, living off faith; it's gasoline!
I'm all prayed up with my head held high, because I have a engine to start, a place to fly for my kind.
Every soul mistaken as a contrite spirit too long.
Every pretty face busted up in every fight.
Every heart denied for all the opening door chased.
Everytime I was set to default to fail , I fell from grace.
Is ammunition enough for me to take a stand, even when the Man of God insists I stand down, and take a back seat.
I don't think of you, I just hearken unto sixth place.
Everybody who is lost, then damned and forgotten.
Out of something new and different to find and of pure instinct; I; this little middle aged North Carolinian stare at the face of opposition, now I can scream, I'm well on my way to heaven.
Because I am still pregnant with some sixth sense, I am all alone, so I don't think of you.
Wherever there's a little trouble, a voice from deep within always confirms it's you trying to eat away at my presence, giving me head colds and rebounds to imprison me.
You only get a minute of pleasure; making fun of me just for you to pretend and make believe that you are stronger than me.
What happens when I erase your plus one in seconds?
I promise, I don't think of you.
I don't think of you at any case.
In and out of any event.
Extravaganza, I don't think of you.
You want me to be perverse, separated, minimized, and replaced.
I'm not gonna break.
Not caving into the palm of your hands.
I won't cry on your shoulder, no matter how broad they are.
I'm not here to salute you, I don't see you as the soldier.
I only want to polute the earth leaving trails of disease behind, for you to inhale for me.
There's nothing you can offer me, to make me foam at the mouth; Make me utter syllables in tongues, or chase my tail in complete circles.
It's not a scavenger hunt.
It doesn't satisfy an itch, for you to know I am waisting ink on you.
Any other day; every other way, wish you were far away.
Why do you always have to try to undo me?
Making things up to become so hard; just want you to know that I don't think of you; you're much too small.
In a world of homeosapians; you're not the first, not the same, not even the last, you cannot draw existence towards me.
I don't think of you.
I don't think of anything pertaining to you including your small toy soldiers.
I don't think of you then, I don't think of you now.
That's probably why you still trying to steal my identity.
Please, go find your own identity!
I don't think of you here, I don't think of you there, nowhere do I drown to dream of you.
You just don't seem to be the one for me.
I don't think of you today; I don't think of you tonight.
I don't think of you tomorrow; or anytime so distant.
There's no future big enough for the three of us.
I don't think of you.

Authorship by Mr Dashaun Rashod Snipes

© Dashaun Rashod Snipes

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