Emotional

I hate you sometimes, I don’t understand why you’re so damn emotional; you try to make me something I cannot be and thus in defense you judge me not knowing that I can be loyal to your every need but I need understanding.

Your acts may have worked with other before me but I am not the typical male. I will do my best to please you only if you supply your true desires with me. Stop faking what you are inside, that being a heart, which is on an emotional high, I pity this weakness sometimes.

Things do not work how you want them to, so you say that because I do not love myself I cannot never fully love you. What bullshit you speak from unrealistic tongue, shame on you for thinking I can’t love you, you say you can relate to my struggle, however your quick to bash me when you see your happiness is at risk, fuck you and your emotional ways. I can’t stand it anymore.

However, I sit here thinking about my next move with you, wondering if your ever feel I will be true to your wants and needs, this pisses me off, makes me shed water which I don’t know of. How can I be with someone like you?

How can I deal with the fact that somewhere inside that thing you call a heart, there are feelings for me that you show so remorsefully. You have changed for the worst, I no longer know you, however you would say, “I never really knew you anyway.” Damn, what a pathetic waste of time this has been for the both of us, you don’t understand me and I don’t understand you. As you think you’re more mature than me, I fail to understand we are on two different sides of the coin.

This is not a case of who is better than the other person; this is a case of pure understanding but is love even worth fighting for anymore? When we first got together, the planets were aligned perfectly now everything is scattered all over the place, when I look at you I see the pain I have caused; but when you look at me do you feel the same?

There is a sense of hopelessness between you and I, all I want for us is to be one but I am sick and tired of you not understanding the true desire of this man. Why can’t you speak to me like the “mature” lady you are, make me aware of your heart’s passion. I am nothing more than a wreck to you, miserable, and unemotional. I apologize for not being more like you. I’m sorry if I am different and maybe I am not unique. Maybe I do hate myself, but don’t take this as a form of weakness my dear, I am stronger than you think.  You call me out of my name, you diminish my manhood, in your eyes I am a boy, but what about the other relationships?

What happened to them?

Were these dudes not “man” enough for you? Alternatively, were they just an hourglass turned over for duration of time?

I want you but not if you can’t accept me as your lover. I am not just an individual looking for your attention, I want your love, your warmth, and embrace. You tell me that self-love is important, this maybe is true, but what you don’t see is that sometimes you have to hate yourself to become stronger, it tests your true character and self. It helps you stay grounded and focused on the world around you, it makes you think about those who are true and false, it can also help you to really search inside one’s mental and truly understand that which is happiness.

I want us to be happy, but what is that but something we as people all our lives try to obtain.

America The Beautiful

Its makes me sick that the world is so blind to the reality that sits so comfortably in front of them.

People are so concerned in the bullshit that they don’t take the time to wonder what if? We sit here and watch media believing its word, none of it is true, America has been lying to its people since its birth.

They say if you go to college, your life will be better, yet they don’t tell you that once your done that there won’t be an opportunity to spread your wings, each time you move they close another door in your face, all you can feel is the wind’s embrace as you shed a tear knowing you wasting four year of your life for a diploma which has no value.

Damn, does this mean because I have both my Masters and Bachelors that I’m being negative, and downplaying the American educational system? Some may say so but let’s look at the knowledge, majority of American parents want their kids to go to school, yet majority them can’t afford it, why? Because the rates of tuition have increased.

So let’s look at it shall we. You go to college four year of loans, you get out can’t get a job, so you go to graduate school or professional school, Ha, more loans, still no job, and why? Because America doesn’t give a fuck about your success. Yes its all pretty and full of glamour but when you’re look at that frame on the wall, you think about how much time and effort you gave America and how much America never gave back…

Stain

Sitting here as the water slowly begins to fill my eyes I sit back and look to the sky. A gentle breeze tonight, it’s rather comfortable, yet why do I need feel so uneasy? I’m hearing God call out to me but I don’t want to listen, there is too much on my mind. As the nerves in my temples continue to pulsate I become rather angry and annoyed. Writing this down I see the ink bleed, somewhere deep down I want to cut myself and feel exactly what it’s like to write feelings onto paper.

 

Looking to the sky again there is a sense of hopelessness that overwhelms me. I clutch my sweater a little closer to my skin as the wind engulfs me with its presence. Things could be so much better between the two of us I thought. Yet, there seems to be something missing that continues to bother me. When I think of you it makes me want to do better yet, I feel that my actions and words mean so little to you. You don’t want to understand where I am coming from; you won’t give me the benefit of the doubt because it will only make me feel comfortable. No longer will you decide to make this about me. Words spoken from your mouth make me shiver; again grabbing my sweater I can no longer think of you.

 

I want to go inside my house; however, something has trapped me. I cannot move. Could this be your sense of urgency to come home to me? Slowly caressing my head as if I was an infant in your arms, damn I miss those passionate days. It seems that all of those have faded washed away at sea no longer to be found again. I was stupid to have cheated on you with another; my punishment was banishment from your internal rhythmic instrument, that which you call your heart. I continued to break it every time that we were apart. I don’t understand this conception of love, this emotion that you have bestowed on me is something that is unknown. The sky and your grace have me motionless, my bones already brittle start to break with the thoughts of you saying how much you don’t care to know of my true desires. You don’t accept me as a person; however you have come to deal with me as an individual.

 

My pen is cold, yet the pages are hot, fueled with the pain and distress I have cause against you, a fool they say is wise, yet a fool in love is always disguised. He waits patiently for his arrival to show his moral self, however he doesn’t know what lies in front of him, that which is a test called love. What are you doing to me? I no longer feel the breeze; it has walked out the door. Again abandoned, footsteps imprinted in the sand reminding me of us, now the current makes it nothing more but mush. I hate these things called feelings they do me no good, yet God put them in me for a reason. There needs to be some understanding behind them. Clutching my pen tightly I bite into my lip blood drips and splashes onto the paper, I write through its dry orange mark. Maybe this is it, I’ll begin to write my love story with you or will this be the end that I have dreamed of.

 

You by my side till the death of us or a lonely knife slash to the throat. What will be the death of me? Who knows yet in the sky tonight it shows me a path, a path to everlasting love with you; at least I hope this is true. My lip stings, I can taste the red against my tongue. This reminds me of your soft body, moist and tender you were and thus I hope to endure another round of your love. Damn, something isn’t right I’m all over the place, flustered. The grip is gone; the pen has dropped from my palm. Brain is splattered across the lines. I want to rip out these pages, burn them, watch them turn to ash thus diminish our past and start to love again. Yet, nothing seems to hurt you when it comes to me anymore; you just seem like the type to just be there cause you care. I guess this is why that tear slid down my cheek just now. God must be talking to me again; he is telling me what a child I have been. He has given me the opportunity to be human, but I cannot take up the cross and walk with him. Too much stuff on my mind, this is the point isn’t it?

 

Maybe a bullet would do the trick, but you have already shot me with it. I’m dead knowing that you are not fully with me, laying in an hospital bed,  tubes coming out of my flesh waiting for you to pull the plug ending this life which I did not deserve with you. How you must hate me. Could it be more than me hate myself? Smacking my brown skin I could feel the tension within my jaw, I needed that wakeup call. Picking up the pen again you come to mind, the time now five in the morning. Night turns into day and again my hand is flowing gracefully against the tree fibers.

 

I stop.

 

The sun rays begin to appear from beneath the clouds, it’s smiling at me. I can’t write any more about this humanity, I need you here now next to me, come home my dear, but no, wait. There has to be something more. You don’t need to deal with a fool but a man who is in love with you. The sky is getting brighter yet my heart is not. I dim my eyes; don’t want the sun to overwhelm me, no longer do I want to feel trapped inside my own reality.

 

The pen and I are no longer one; I want to be one with you. My heart is dead though and I burn a gash into my mental. I look below and notice the ink sliding from my heart. I have stabbed that which the feelings were once apart. I guess what they say is true, “a man’s desire come directly from the heart spoken through the tongue.”

 

I spoke not from my heart yet from my words. All I wanted was you to understand. Now the day is here and no longer will a tear fall again from your eyes.

 

The test you gave me was love, yet I wasn’t a fool in it. Only disguising myself with thoughts left though that orange stain…

No One Gives a Fu*k About The Educated Black Male

No one gives a fuck about an educated Black male, it just seems that when this male has continued to achieve they continued to want him to fail. Pushing up daises is the means for him, they want to see his end, they want him to feel what it is like to struggle, yet he already struggles because he is a Black male. Why does he even continue to try to strive for a dream which in realized they continue to tell him that it is deferred? Why does he even continue to push for something when they continue to tell him he is nothing?

For years, he has studied to obtain degrees. Mounted in frames on a white wall he screams because the world has rejected him. No one can help him. Fist hits the door, blood slowly pours onto the floor. He is angry and appalled at the fact that he is Black yet educated. Matter of fact, he is the first in his family that has made it. Yet, what is making it for a Black male who’s only options  are to get drunk, sag pants, or smoke weed. Who’s only means is to look a certain type of way because if he doesn’t he considered uppy or not Black enough. The emptiest place can be in your own skin. Questions continue to linger in his brain, when will he get a job? When will things start to get better? As he sit and wonders, he gets irate looking at what a waste the Black male has become. Does he have to rap to make an honest living in the world? Does he have to become normality? Another statistic?

Though this tainted window there is more, this he knows. Being a Black male in America is nothing more than a puppet show. They tell you that if you don’t do what is told you won’t make it, as if in slave times the master is still present, we just happen to call it another name SOCIETY. If education is the key to success why do so many shun it? A Black male with an education is a threat thus why not incarcerate instead. They give us guns to kill our dreams and demolish our hopes of ever becoming what they are. No one gives a fuck about the educated Black male this is true, that’s why the struggle is real and no one will help you. Everything in life is worth fighting for they say, yet as a Black male that fight continues from birth till that last breath taken from within.

A Black male is an empty shell in a world created not for his success but his failure. Our own women, friends, and people fail to encourage us, they down play us dig us deeper into the hole which we ourselves already have.

No one gives a fuck about the Black male, so what can he do? What can he do?

The Moment or Us

Early morning, I roll around under my sheets as the sun is piercing
its rays through my window.

Today could of been a good day, yet its not. My mind is restless,
still thinking about last night. Where you once rested still
imprinted. You were just here?

When the shots went off, I ran to get you, there you laid motionless
blood flowing like lava from you body. When the paramedics put you on
that gurney you held my hand tight, numb it became as you told me it
was going to be okay.

Entering that hospital everything became bleak, gleaming lights
illuminating blinding my pupils, I could not find you. Doctors holding
me back, but my mind thinking the worst.

I waited and waited, seconds, became minutes, became hours. When they
told me I could see you I became lost. Like a child looking for his
mother they had to direct me. When I saw you it hit me like a cannon,
I fell to the ground grabbing the ledge of the hospital bed.

I held your hand the same you grabbed. Praying to the lord above I
told him to keep you close, my eyes are shut water seeping through, I
cannot control these emotions. Next came the beeping and white coats
rushing in like a raging stampede. Pushing me aside they removed me
out of the room. Angry my fist connected with ones’ lower cheekbone.
They had to constrain me as if I were a patient myself. I see the
blood coming from your mouth and for a moment I could taste it as if
we were one.

Again the waiting game, on the tiled floor outside of room 203,
doctors, nurses staring at me with lonesome eyes, I pushed my head
against cold hands and began to scream. Everything within that moment
pause, I saw you again. Suddenly a cold caress swept across my
shoulder, “I’m sorry but we couldn’t save her.” Slamming the white
coated man into the pale blue wall I cursed him, it was like looking at
death himself, there was no compassion, no feeling.

Running through the halls out into the cold brisk December air I fall
on hands, clothes become soak from the snow and salt on the
ground,”Why God?”

Back home, I rub my sheets, smell the pillow, the fragrance of your
hair still lingers within my nostrils. I want to be with you. Going
into that kitchen, I’m cold and alone.

I reach for that knife. I want to stab my heart, the only thing that
you ever had, but I confused. If I decide to kill myself, hell bound I
will go and you my angel I will never see again, but it hurts so much.
It didn’t have to happen this way, it didn’t.

If I would have got there one second sooner it would have been me
taking that bullet, but I didn’t.

Mirror

I hate myself, this skin is tainted and I no longer want to be considered Black, I no longer want to look into the glass knowing that I am a man that has obtained nothing, yet the world tends to judge otherwise because of my skin, which for generations have been a means of ignorance, and stupidity. Still today they look at us like that and we aren’t smart enough to make the moves to change ourselves.

I hate how I look and feel inside. My heart is dead, my eyes no longer cry tears but bleed instead this blood which continues to be shed by those who call me names, those who feel what I say is nothing more than garbage spoken from the mouth, those that continue to reject me from every job because I wasn’t qualified. People never take the time to understand what they don’t know, they are however quick to judge because of one’s figure or one’s bodily language, always fearing that the person may be a threat, yet not a threat to them but a threat to themselves.

I hate these hands, these lips, these feet. I hate this hair, this soul which the lord above has blessed me with yet God even continues to let me suffer, not giving a damn about how my life is but always asking that I repent for my sins which I have casted upon this flesh, this Black flesh that isn’t beautiful, but full of rust slowly breaking off into dust, falling to the ground blowing off into the wind with a gust.

I hate our people cause our people hate our people, this is why they always win, and we always loss. Can’t you see that all I want to go is succeed yet my brother won’t even grab my hand up the ladder of success, yet he continues to brag about what he is doing and how much he is making. Ha, and you talk about me complaining. Fuck you I say this hate is the only real thing I know cause when looking and feeling don’t show what can a Black male do but just sit down and continue to wish he could grow.

Again I hate cause I’m not a human being, I am a construction to a world that has planted me into its destruction, a plan to make me hate that which is myself. Love is no longer an option because love never existed, yet you say you love your life, never for once questioning why it is you feel this way.

Damn I hate passionately, like when you bite into something you desire for and realized it doesn’t taste how you expected, this same is with life. You wake up and try to stay positive, try to survive however you don’t realized your dreams are always a distant memory implanted in your brain’s capacity.

Yeah, I hate and maybe next time you judge me you’re be sure to relate to this pain which you try to fake and never understand.

Never Ride Chinatown…

Its late,cold, and raining. I’m sitting in my mother blue Ford Focus waiting for the Chinatown bus back to New York City. Its a cool night in Raleigh but the wind is picking up, Mother Nature seems to be upset tonight. Water is pounding the car, the tears of the sky slide down the windows. My bus was suppose to be here at 11pm it is now 11:30. “Where the hell is the bus I say.” Looking at my cousin and mother their facial expression are saying the same things. Across the highway I see a white bus passing by but wasn’t too sure if that could have been mine.

Looking at my ticket again I come to realize that we were at the wrong address. The location of the bus was across the street. We drive to the correct location. Mother Nature has calmed herself yet it is still wet.

Not knowing if I was going to be stuck or not I decided to call the office. A Chinese lady picks up and I hand my Blackberry to my mother as she speaks about trying to get on the 1am bus. Kindly the lady told my mother that I could so again the waiting game.

As we waited we all just listened to the radio laughing and joking about whatever. Again the bus is late, its about 1:30 now. Finally a red bus pulls up in front of the location. I say my good byes and on I go. I’m tired but happy that the bus is rather empty. Finding a seat wasn’t a problem. Towards the back I go sitting and relaxing. However the bus is dingy and old, seats are ripped and floors are sticky. It doesn’t matter to me I just want to get home.

As the bus cruises alone the highway I think about yesterday’s events. These constant reminders are lingering in my mind but putting them aside I close my eyes.

When I wake up we are pulling into some run down Motel in which I forgot the name. The lights illuminate my pupils and as I wipe crust out my eyes all I hear is , “everyone move to the next bus please.” Across from us is the white bus I was suppose to been on at 11pm. As me and the other passengers moved on to the next bus we all came to find out it was crowded.

Again another dingy bus this time with more people. The Chinese dude with a white shirt and some blue jeans taps me and says, ” You need to put you bag under,” I looked at him in digust, ” I’ll put it on top like I did on the other bus.” He lets me continue on my way. Moving my way to the back this lady comes to realized she forgot her luggage so she decides to move her big self towards me and squeeze her way through. I’m pissed.

Walking towards the back I see people laid out sleep and not about to get up to move. Kindly I ask someone if I could sit down. Its a white dude in a grey sweat suit he moves and I sit. Suddenly a brief altercation breaks out between the Chinese bus driver and a white dude behind me pertaining to a seat. The white dude had claimed that the two seats next to him were wet. Apparently there was a leak in the bus from the rain. The Chinese dude wasn’t trying to hear that, ” You paid for one seat and you holding up two,” he said. “Oh, fuck outta here the seats is wet, No one got up when I switched buses before so why the fuck should I get up for him.” The Chinese dude is pissed and not in the mood.

Suddenly a black female wearing some jeans and a grey shirt and a head scarf looks back and says, ” Yo shut the fuck up and move, I got to be to work in the morning.” The white dude is not happy with her tone of voice, ” Bitch you don’t know me. I got friends in Brownsville that will dig your ass in the ground who you be with.” She looks at the white dude and yells, ” I’m with the Chinatown connection so you better move the fuck over.” Me and the dude with the grey sweat suit just laugh. Finally dude in the back decides to move and we leave…

A Girl

All I wanted to do was be at peace with a girl, a girl who I hurt, a girl who I pushed away because of my stupid ways. For years she stood by as I did nothing but destroy her inner spirit, her kind heart was slowly diminishing with every smack to the face, every hit and cut to the skin, was this love?

I forced myself to believe I could be better but that past breakup hurt me, on top of the fact that I got fired from my job and bashed in school about my writing. I soon tucked away my pain to bring her in, she fell for my charm, yet deep into the bowels of my heart was something evil ready to explode.

For awhile I kept it contained, yet again like a volcano I erupted cursing her and cursing my pathetic life. I hated myself, I couldn’t look in the mirror to see the man that I had become.

She however continued to stay hoping that I would get better, but I got worse. The scars on my heart were too deep and each day I was picking at the scabs opening back up a wound that wasn’t fully healed. As a result this girl felt my raft.

Blow after blow I hit her, I choked her and made her beg for mercy. The control was in my hands and it felt good. She tried to get away by telling me awful truths about myself that I should have taken in, but they only made me madder and her eyes blacker. More permanent marks on her brown skin, a constant reminder of how she loved someone who didn’t love back, someone who because of control wanted to have his way with her.

For so long she allowed the abuse trying to figure out why he was like this, yet he being me didn’t care to speak. I became a closed book only venting to a complete stranger behind closed doors, yet never fully trying to explain to her why I felt hitting her would I thought solve my problems.

There was no hope left for this relationship. I continued to try to force hope out of her, I continued to try to make her see that I was sorry. I didn’t want to see the truth, the truth that I was still trying to control her.

When she finally realized there was nothing left for me, I became mad, cursed her for wanting to leave, threaten her life, family, and friends. I wasn’t being peaceful, again I was being a control freak. I guess I didn’t want to realize that the love she had for me was gone. I didn’t want to see that the wounds on her body weren’t like my wounds, they were much worse because I made them.

When I awoke that night after realizing that it was over, that she would no longer contact me, see me, be with me, I became sad and once again hurt, but now I knew exactly how she felt for years trying to love me.

I guess it is true what they say, you don’t realize what you have until its gone, yeah I finally came to see the truth that she so longed wanted me to admit to myself, but because I was selfish she had to deal with the consequences of my pain.

Damn, I wish I could change the past but life doesn’t have a do over button.

Subway Daydream

Subway ride home, there you sit next to me dressed in a green skirt, black vest, red shirt; your fragrance lingers through my nostrils, what are you wearing I think.

Reaching into my McDonald’s bag I insert a crispy fry into my mouth the salt and potato contents become one with my taste, however my eyes are fixated on you,pulling out a mirror from your Chanel purse you slowly move fingers through your golden brown hair, I continue to chew slowly, why am I starting to see you in my fanasties?

I wish I could have you close to me, looking into your light caramel pupils, caressing your body as your soft lips kissed mines. However this is a mere thought, a daydream; your sitting there and I here and even though you look something like a goddess in those blue stockings with pink painted nails I could never fully indulge in your milky substance, that what I could tell by looking at you is a heavenly drink, damn I’m thristy.

The train comes to a stop, we have reached our destination, however I’m thinking about the climax. I smirk and even giggle a little but you sitting are so beautiful. Again I think who is lucky enough to have you?

The doors open, as you walk I notice your behind plum like a fresh pear on a summer day, I want run my tongue all over you. Damn if I weren’t so shy you could have been mines. Its okay tonight in my mental I will remember you and maybe you me.

We part ways and like a gust in the wind, a memory.

Excerpt From Memoir…

***

I had always hated the city from its trains, to its people right down to its rats. New York City wasn’t the place for me. Being that I had no choice but to stay here until I finished my masters I tried to cope with dealing. I didn’t know what it was but New York City was getting to me. Maybe it was the fact that I was no longer with Alicia. It could have been the fact that I was just laid off from Toys R’ Us too. Either way I couldn’t find work nowhere and I was getting tired and annoyed. I cursed myself for even going to school.

One night I was sitting in my room. Looking at the wall I noticed my diploma from Binghamton University. I remember when the UPS guy brought it to me. Standing there in his brown uniform I jumped for joy. Placing my diploma into the golden and brown frame I felt accomplished. Once I hung it on my wall I looked at it for a couple of minutes and smiled. I didn’t feel that way tonight. I thought about its worth.  Obtaining my degree didn’t mean shit because it wasn’t getting me anywhere. As my eyes glared I couldn’t help but to want to burn it.  All I could think about was losing my job at Toys R’Us. How the hell was I going to get money? Damn. Looking back up at my diploma all of my feelings couldn’t amount to that one piece of paper. That all it was, a piece of paper. Four years and I had nothing to show for it. I started to write a note.  As I continued to write I looked my clock. It was twelve in the morning. I couldn’t deal with the issues. I decided to leave.

Walking out my house I could feel the cool breeze creep down my spine. Down the block I walked to the six train line. Inside the station I noticed bright lights but felt cold emotions. I could feel a shadow over my shoulder telling me to return home. I wouldn’t allow myself to do such a thing. I hated this place, this existence. On the train I sat down. My hands gently caressing my face as people looked at me with eyes glaring. There was nowhere to go. No one I could speak to. I feel like a stranger.

Getting off at Canal Street, I looked around. Darkness surrounded me. The wind was picking up tonight and the New York streets were quite. I could see a few stranglers here and there but the only thing on my mind is trying to understand. I walked from Canal Street to the Brooklyn Bridge, it’s a beautiful sight. The lights are illuminated and the stone structure is something divine. I crossed the street and started to walk across the bridge. New York looks beautiful at night. I look down at my watch and notice the time; it’s two in the morning. The city’s skyline is something great.  I start to think back to all the good times I had here, especially with Alicia. My stomach started to rumble. I become hungry. Checking my pockets, I pull out a twenty dollar bill.  I continued on to Brooklyn.  The bridge was scary at night. The lights were dim and since I’m elevated it doesn’t make for a very good feeling. My body was shivering and my hands were cold. Finally in Brooklyn I stare at the buildings as my mind began to fade. I find a local deli store. The canopy said open twenty-four hours. I go inside. I grab me a bag of Lays and a Pepsi. Coming out the store I noticed a bench nearby. Walking over I looked up and down as my shadow said hello. Sitting on the bench tears started to seep through. I was scared but home was not an option. Opening the bag of Lays I could smell the greasy contents under my nose. As I inserted one into my mouth I could hear the crunchiness. Turning the top of the Pepsi bottle I could hear the sizzle of the carbonated drink.  As I washed down the salty after taste my body became tense.

I want to sleep but I can’t sit still. Jumping up, I happened to spill some of the Pepsi on the ground. At least it didn’t get on my clothes. Picking up the bottle, I decided to walk back to Manhattan. Across the Manhattan Bridge back to the island I go. There was no one on the bridge but me. Compared to the Brooklyn Bridge it was ugly. The structure wasn’t beautiful and there were barely any lights. The only thing that kept me calm was the train roaring by every now and then. It was now almost four in the morning. I could see the sky start to change from night into day.

I really needed sleep. I needed love, comfort, a friend. I realized I was close to the Staten Island Ferry so I continued my journey there. It was cold. All I had on was my blue hoodie, some jeans and sneakers with my Yankee cap on. I walked with the New York skyline behind me and God beside me. It was rather interesting though. For once I felt free but in reality I was alone. Entering the ferry terminal I finally saw some life. People were waiting patiently to return home; home that’s where I should have been tucked under my sheets dreaming but no I was here waiting. My eyes are becoming heavy. I found a corner in the terminal and sat on the floor. Sitting down I started to nod. Sleep was taking over and for a moment I almost felt over. A lonely pigeon comes over as if to say hi to me. Looking at its orange beak, circular round eyes, and greyish feathers I began to giggle. The ferry finally comes and I go aboard. I paid no attention to the people on the ferry. All I just wanted to close my eyes and relax. I lowered my head into my arms and fell to sleep. Suddenly I was awakening by one of the crew members. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform with a bright orange patch that read: Staten Island Ferry Crew on the left side of his jacket. He had a long white beard and dark green eyes,

“Son, we are here you have to leave the ferry.”

I went along as he told me. Now in Staten Island it was almost six in the morning. The sky again touched my pupils. There was something powerful about being alone in the city in the early morning.  I really just wish I could start over. No worries, stress, or complaints. All I wanted was to be happy but it felt so hard. Another ferry enters the terminal and I decide to go back to Manhattan. This time I didn’t sleep instead I looked out the window. Passing the Statue of Liberty I felt like one of those immigrants coming into America. I thought maybe a change in my life could happen. As the ferry pulled into Manhattan I felt inspired to do something different yet I was still sleepy. I continued to walk. Finally I reached the South Street Seaport. I knew I could get some sleep here. The birds were singing and life started to take its course. I continued to stare at the old boats and the pier as I look around for somewhere to nap. Finally I saw some tables under the pier. I went over to one of the tables. Sitting down I kicked back and started to relax.  I could see the sun rising over the Brooklyn Bridge. It was amazing. As its golden rays appeared it struck my body like a match. I sat there thinking and hoping for something to come. Closing my eyes I dream.