Diary Of A Black Man #12

Dear Diary,

Today was the residue of a high. A high of emotions, last night I performed competitively and lost gracefully. With humility I watched and awed at those more skilled and adept at a craft I hold to a high esteem. Not performers but real life poets, equipped with profound stories, vast vernaculars, and intricate themes and deliveries. It was merely music to my ears. I definitely, was inspired it felt so genuine and authentic like that hole in the wall soul food or Mexican place. It was such a rewarding experience, it made me appreciate a new degree the blessing of fatherhood, through the craft of wordsmith. Along with that it evoked something I had been missing which was emotion, I felt the words and the messages, the plots weren’t scripted, not cloaked behind catchy punchlines or masked by current events.

No these were real stories of pain, liberation, admiration, betrayal, disease, self-awareness, and most of all life. Not one artist made me feel anything less than genuine truth. The aftermath of that genuine truth was today as I raised and thought to myself about the workings of my evening. I then shifted to my current situation and quickly seemed to feel depressed, halted and locked into the moment. I had the onset of a familiar feeling. My past was creeping up and letting me know that it had a lock on me. I began to have a brief panic attack.

Not in a steady pace but in a racing out of time last minute make it happen don’t fuck up because if you do you are going to be a failure and disappointment and you are too fucking old to be running all these thoughts together and not pausing to breathe and now you are tired type of panic.

Just like that long run on sentence, I was overwhelmed and stressed. This time for believing in a lie, and realizing that all that I could see were mistakes. Not opportunities, not chances to rebirth and resurgence. A place of inadequacy had a sign with my name and a table for one sitting right next to me. My mania was a familiar one.

The aftermath of the intimacy experienced last night was met…

With the feeling of destitution and loneliness…

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One thought on “Diary Of A Black Man #12

  1. Kim says:

    I always appreciate your honesty. Your poetry is always so vividly illustrated to where all five senses are instantly activated. Keep going!

    Like

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