Graffiti Transgender Train Tracks

Regularly irregular intervals of insanity,
Condemned skyscrapers filled with graffiti art,
Life-like Mona Lisa’s comes to terms with their beauty,
Imperfect features, figuratively speaking;
Each second of every relapse comes into contact with needle points,

Every lazy eye sings praises for Ebonics,
Every Ebony woman shoulders Afro-centric qualities,
Every eye lash writes slave poems,
Every tear drop washes away scarred tissue,
Every fingernail sings gospel music for lost children,
Every rib-cage remembers whips, chains, and dead bodies,
Every hip bone tries to maneuver around Uncle Tom,
Every thigh tries to forget about each degree of forced separation,
Every toe tries to remember lost limbs,
Every molecule of dark matter raped, pillaged, and defeated,

It wasn’t until graffiti met raindrops,
Asking black men to pick between athletics and servitude,
Either metal bars or hardwood floors with slave master logos,
Upon walking into an empty defaced tower,
Bright colors, twist and turns, artistic turrets,
Slang, slurs, and slander,

Person 1: Wait, Wait, Wait?
Person 2: What?
Person 1: I don’t get it. What are you trying to say?
Person 2: Have you ever witnessed graffiti dance upon train tracks?
Person 1: That is impossible.
Person 2: Let me show you.

Walls of platitudes, beatitudes, and attitudes,
Behind renaissance masks, clever tricks, and social miscues,
2 persons walked through the skyscraper’s entrance,
Both arrived carrying Adam’s Apple,

One of them bought and loved silicon,
Wore a masquerade ball gown with a slit down the side,
Red heels laced with black diamonds,
Every natural woman jealous,
As they laid eyes upon society’s proclaimed misfit,

J.Lo’s ass ran off stage,
Tyra screamed in agony as her body was no match,
Nicki lost her crown,

Walked silently in the night despite wearing heels,
Her back carried tattoos full of Chinese characters, dragons, and torches,
Her eyes wore black mascara hiding domestic abuse,
Yet, she carried in her hand a spray paint can,

Next to her was a man of equal stature,
Converse shoes with gold spinners,
Calvin Klein khakis and an American Eagle polo,
He wore a feathered hat and chewed on buck wheat,
Cheeks rose-colored, nose slightly curved,
Brown eyes and a different hair color every day of the week,

Every corner,
Every stair,
Every wall,
Every window,
Every mirror,

As they climbed each level,
Both of their legs spoke of giving out,
Each of them agreed to keep climbing,
As they reached the top of the skyscraper,
Both spray paint cans felt nearly empty,

Old tears dried but new tears soaked their feet,
They spray painted their initials on the rooftop floor,
Facial features, wings, and hands,
They emptied their spray paint cans,
Tossed them off the skyscraper’s edge,

Person 1: Why did they kill themselves? I don’t get it.
Person 2: They didn’t. Rather the skyscraper knew the graffiti would stay. So the only choice it had was to destroy the tie between the train tracks and those who walk along them.


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