The blackness of my blackness, I don't think it's malicious. It's manipulative. I can't control it. It isn't evil, it isn't malicious, it isn't bad. Bad because it's erratic, unruly, disorderly. It goes where it wants, it takes what it wants and I let it go. So therefore maybe it is bad, it's disobedient but I thrive in it.
The words will roll of my tongue and like a wounded, stuttering bird it will fly right through you. I will collect you, I will collect everything about you. Then I'll leave the pieces behind me like a broken trail of breadcrumbs, retreating with my blackness, my shadow.
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