Fine

Fine
By Nana Aforo

As I exhale; with my ball point pen then I should fuck
everybody in the semantics, because there is no string orchestra
in this aria. But for the moment between light and gnashing
I feel. Fine. Death is a metaphor but its so wild and sudden
that it sometimes distracts from that. Are you still intact.
After that? But I feel fine. On a needle point in the middle
of the canyon. But for the moment I have my balance.
I'm devoid of a machine mind and I'm flashing people in the
street but they think I'm clothed, so I can do anything, as I
take note of your face before your face. I flip it like a
coin meaning live life because every day is 50/50. For the
moment I can still see out of my left eye so I breath and
release as I wrap myself up and be set forth to the present.
But hey. For the moment I feel. Fine. Like red wine hahahahaha...
I'll swan dive out of my own brain and move ghostly. I felt
like a stone as I dropped from the sky and I've never been
high. I crashed my car same day I crashed the party but
I was not invited. Entirely too typical as I become cynical
cyclical but it will pass because who said dreams
aren't the literal.

But I'm bursting at the seams with reproach. You should
crack granite eggs the same way I crack my heart because
you're tough like that, right my niggaaa? Yeah whatever.
But I. I feel. Fine. Smelling flowers as I attach a wing-nut
to the symbol and Jackson these questions my brethren be
asking about the state of tomorrow. Something worthwhile,
so with that in mind I feel fine. For the moment I feel. Fine.
I'm not sick I'm just sick that's why it seems like I'm sick.
I lay bricks so you should build yourself. It was darker the
second time. It was brighter! It was so much brighter!
For that fellow over there adjacent to myself, said he was,
Pan-African. Apparently I was the only nigga out here haha.
But no, I'm one of a nation of millions no Elijah. And in
addition a global citizen. I see two sides of man call him
Stevenson Wallace from Farfield. Far from the fields as
we come all the way back around? A painting of my window
pane as I keep it moving. Know this I spread gnosis same
way I spread pism, background out of range of sound
I leave it to be found. Crush precepts grow flowers. So
for the moment I feel. Fine. Again.
In the beginning...