Head high, heart in hell—
Coco J. GingerMy boy of steel. My man of honor. My perfect friend. My timeless soldier.
Coco J. Ginger….watch me rise like smoke from fire.
Watch me fly above your hate.
Watch me dance upon your meanness
like a ballerina with posture; grace.
Watch me laugh over your hatred;
watch me soar above your sea of grief.
And know that I am out there somewhere…
C R U S H I N G.
Did my courage make you crazy? Cripple you with the unknown?
Did my silence create desire—make you feel things you could not discern?
Is my shinning light exploding? Can your eyes not yet adjust?
Is my forgiveness running through you? Knowing your pain I will not digest?
Is my confidence disrupting the girl you LOVE to HATE the most?
Poor Mr. Zum now he was un-fun and had no funs left who wanted to entertain him. What a qerbackle, what an un-fun pickle to be in.
Coco J. GingerTar-heart baby, let me be, let me shine bright, stop making fun of me. Stop bringing up my past un-funs.
Coco J. GingerWhat is love, if not the abandonment of all sanity, all dignity?
Coco J. GingerWhat had I done? Where was my fun? I wanted play, I wanted sun, he was the opposite —I called him Zum because he’s an un-fun, the sort of mean-fun bully on the playground-fun. Mean Mr. Zum.
This was madness, this was badness this was sadness this was too much un-fun-ness.
The white noise in his heart, the sum of all his colors
—the metronome to which he beat
[was she].
No one likes you tar-heart baby, no one likes un-fun-ness.
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