past midnight

Every ghetto every city, Philadelphia is Bedstuy with fewer street lights and more trash, more trade and angrier tears. As the kale greens simmer with chili powder, garlic, brown mustard, and sea salt I bite my lip wishing there was a cute boy to see me bite my lip and decide to relieve my teeth's night post. 

You don't realize how big your dick is until you start having sex with other men. A year ago, I was a virgin. Soon, I wonder will I long to fill my bed with warm brown bodies that remember my name because it has two syllables opposed to the man they had the night before with four- D'Angelo. Sometimes I wonder what the weather will be the day I decide to become a bitter black gay man, I hope it's sunny with light cirrus clouds and a fragrant breeze. I have a knack for attracting the rich ones, almost went to Paris, but I opened my mouth when he was flaccid and he didn't like the words that ejaculated hot and sticky, burning his face; and, didn't sound like his name... 

I long to laugh with children, walk runways, dance naked, eat grapefruits in a field planting the seeds, write my love with my tongue across the thighs of several brown deserving men.

I used to pray to be beautiful, I pray that others realize their beauty now. 

The sweet potatoes are done now.

Love. Peace. Afrogrease.

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AMAZING!!

-Marcus "Marz" B.