Overstimulated

You ever stand in the face
Of the grace of faith and purpose
It can erase the hurt for certain
Like lifting a curtain from over
Weeping and screeching 
Screaming and reaching for that 
Hug you once needed

It makes you sit with it all
Fall to the ground and pound the floor
Until the carpet clipping shave itself
Underneath is the hard exterior
Concrete with cracks like branches
As if the trees resembled your pain

Have you thought about the lessons
Yelling in your ears from cheek to chin
It grins but folded your smiles
Racing miles across descending skin
When did this all begin

It started in your youth
Curious about life and its wonders
Wondering across a bridge that chased east
To the side of the city where bullets traveled
More than churches existing 
Next to liquor stores

Male trees planted seeds on rooted knees
When the feminine essence screamed 
To have a space to be needed 
And seeded to drink the elixir of her juices
From lay lines and cruises
The bruises of excuses of city drama
Laughter and pain from a weeping Momma

I once look out of a window 
Playing PlayStation and Nintendo
The wind blew through the cartridge
The cough bridged the coffin 
Walking dust to its grave 
Breaths escape through vents
Windows with tints 
Leaving summers heat to the street
The window fan had a glitch

Each year a new memory
Buried deeper to the abyss 
Squeezing hurt like a cyst
The spinal cord had a connection
To the second orb that toured 
The Afghanistan wars from 
The stomach of vomit
Cleaning the room
With a heavy stench of comet

The story of the oceans glory
The horrors worried then boarded
Up like crack houses with 11 stories
The elevator out of order
The stairs was missing rails 
The smells of pissy pigeons plastering poop
Pasted on worksheets from the work week

The commentary of commissary 
Looking out the window seeing several 
Futures erased from existence
Wishes never fulfilled the wills
Of many men defeated in court cases
That success left breeding mop pushers

The birds will flock to lock the door
From the poor losing stamps that vamps
Set up camp outdoors next to foreign stores
With chains and metal doors
Turn style sliding cylinders
Bullet proof glass whirled 
Faster than an policy enforcer
 
Drinking coffee with toffee
The mobs lined up in the lobby
You would have thought the 
policy chief was Marcus Garvey
with a mustache like Steve Harvey

Starving the hoods
For service and goods
That stood like cheese that couldn't bleed
Fire had other plans in the devils hands
The sacred hangouts and handout
Faded junkies leans got played out

The days out to lay out plans of disturbance
The turbulence herd it like shepherds pie
With a biscuit hat that sat
On a slope of a ceiling with a missing hat
Can you envision that?

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/ILOdHfNg3_Y