Snake oil salesman
We listened raptly as the Captain spoke, madly waving his arms, speaking of the riches awaiting us on the shores beyond the horizon.
New to the ways of the sea, none worried that the ship had no one at the wheel as all were making sure the Captain saw them listening and nodding, all hoping to curry favor and reap the greatest rewards.
We didn't know the Captain had won the boat in a backroom poker game and knew less than any of us about how to sail the ship, having given the boot and the finger to the former captain's crew.
"Bunch of morons," he was heard to say about them.
Miles from land, the boat began to spin. The Captain stopped waving his arms and speaking long enough to wonder aloud, "Who's driving this thing?"
Looking up to the helm, we saw only dancing shadows, and some of us were gripped by fear, its tiny talons having silently yet swiftly snaked within us, relentlessly squeezing, stabbing our hearts and minds as we realized the future he had promised was as solid as the smoke receding before our eyes.
Snake Facts
We slither and slide and sink and slam and
Hurt ourselves then don’t understand
We pop and we jug and we dis and we dat
And we can’t understand why we jump like that
You dis me so I kill you
I dis you so you kill me
We all do dis and we all sweat flack
We black on black like yellow on black
chorus:
at each other--it’s a fact
on our brothers--it’s a fact
fail our mothers--it’s a fact
to each other--that’s that
Black on black is the darker track
We gotta be up to cover our back
We brace our back and take up the slack
To back the attack--it’s a fact.
White man freed the slaves, so what?
Put us in the autoclave, so what?
We hold our brothers back, that’s us!
Ridin’ shotgun in the back of the bus.
chorus:
Red on black--venom lack--it’s a fact
Yellow on black--watch your back--it’s a fact
Black on yellow--kill a fellow--it’s a fact
Black on black, blood-curdling howl of racial feedback
--it’s a fact
Tightens When You Move
It snaked tighter when he shifted, sliding through the spaces he left open, winding between his ribs, curling where breath should have been. It moved like warmth at first, like something meant to hold him, coil after coil, snug and steady, a presence so familiar he mistook it for comfort.
But love, like this, tightens when you move wrong. When you reach for air.
It didn't strike. No fangs, no venom. Just the slow, patient squeeze. A constriction mistaken for embrace. A grip that convinced him he was safe, even as it stole the air from his lungs.
He let it happen. Thought it was supposed to feel this way. Thought love should press in, reshape him, make him smaller, make him fit inside the space it allowed. But when he tried to breathe deep, to stretch, to move beyond what it had decided he could be—
That was when it reminded him:
It had never been his to hold.
Chokehold
*Trigger warning: abuse*
Your arms snake around the curve of my neck, choking me up, the air leaving my lungs bit by bit as your hold tightens. Fear all of sudden leaves my body and I feel myself relax under your grip. It's only when I'm completely out of oxygen that the panic rises up within me like burning, hot lava. I don't want to die! I writhe and twist against your warm body, trying desperately to wriggle out of your chokehold. Black spots dot my vision, spreading across my line of sight like smudged mascara or perhaps thick black paint as soon as it touches water. Tears burn at the edges of my eyes, the life being sucked out of them with every passing second.
"I'm sorry."
Your useless apology falls upon my ears like a faraway echo of times I'd rather not recall. But I do. I remember every minute of it. I remember it all.
It began with curses under your breath, barely audible to me. Then a push, a bruise, a slap. You no longer remained my lover, instead taking the shape of something monstrous, something I was no longer familiar with; someone who scared me to my core, who made me feel loved at times, but mostly alone.
I should have seen it coming. I should have recognized the looks on my friends' faces, a mixture of horror and disgust when I told them how you pushed me down the stairs because you were too drunk to realize what you were doing. Oh, how I defended you, like my life depended on it. And now look, you're the one taking it away.
