Y2SLAVE 

by Darsan Mitchell, Dearborn

His spot, his dope, his motherfukin' custo’s
I'm broke as fuck reduced to slangin' yae-yo
I dropped out of the first grade
Imma’ 2000 slave
It's a Digital Age
My head’s filled with waves
You know where I stay
I gotta Johnny Blaze
No other way
The truth I can't take
A psychotic state has got me at da gate
Sellin' mad weight off of a dime plate
My cut ain’t great but I must stay awake
He look like Jake tho' these fiends can't wait
Still I tempt fate as my avenue quakes
I'm servin' fresh baked cakes

A Midwestern state of denial
Motherfuck trial
I try and I try yo
But failure is my guide so
I excel at futility
My God given ability
Ever so slowly killin' me
So killin' you comes easily
I know my seeds need me
"Daddy please feed me"
Lord please don't leave me
This livin’ ain't easy
If only Bush could see
How Osama B. recruitin’ me
Jihadian philosophies
In the land of the free
To bring this democracy
To its motherfuckin' knees

Everyday is a nightmare
For the future I'm not prepared
So I live by the second
‘Cause a minute is a weapon
In the hands of the reaper
My eternal soul keeper
This bastion of prosperity
I live naught but disparity
Did I do this
Or did this get done to me
Some say it's a conspiracy
Of an illuminated society
If you examine the currency
It's illustrated with prophecies
But dat shit is way too deep
And the streets keep callin' me

A peculiar institution
Emancipation vs. Revolution
When it's all said and done
The only way is of the gun
I'm catchin' bodies 1 by 1
I'm losin' sons 1 by 1
This war will be won by one
Reincarnated I hope I never come
Again as a slave
3001.

–Darsan Mitchell, Dearborn

Take me back to the Summer Fiction index. E-mail comments to letters@metrotimes.com

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