we meditate often on the space between now and before. what was the cost that my pigment carried. it was a dread naught weighted by summers black golden sun. it was a season on Earth in a perilous boat driven by beast who’s skin remained impenetrable and perturbing as ash. the ash of cold and the blue of winter. skin that fought light and shunned kinship to my own red rose gold of the black gold sun. even though I am separate more from them that be with me inside my like skinned group the greatest of similarities that draw me to those that be outside of me brings them in the fight to resist the golden shine of a celestial hind to strike and pull me down strapping straps to my back and riding me like a comet pulled off the curve of heavens birth. and what cost is the color that rounds my brow plumps my lips lifts my ass and makes me stronger than a mule bone mixed within a horses ass. it seems I don’t know as I chase the wraiths away, that bite with slavery, with arrows composed of complacency and the falsity of serenity in a well dressed façade of black gold that hides a sickness, a gangrenous eating that tears unexceptional souls into ignorant ruins in the now and before.

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