benga
diary of an afro warrior
[tempa]
diary of an afro warrior
[tempa]
one lives firmly attached to a deteriorating pant leg. five days a week it deals with the darkness of the closet. if he forgets to or chooses not to close the finicky heavy doors one morning, it basks in the waving sparkle of the sun through the bedroom window. it likes basking more than the forced solitude of most days. on one of these light-privileged days, it managed to catch a glimpse of the other pant leg. there were no other safety pins there. it thought for sure there'd be another somewhere in the rack of hole-infected garments, but no luck. so it was left to its own devices, pondering the severity of the tear it helps temporarily repair, the questionable pattern in the plaid-ish pair that gets brushed up next to its head when he wildly and carelessly pushes through the hangers for one of those stiff pairs of unharmed pants.
the weekends were mostly hopeful, though while it felt like it was finally being put to use, it also felt used. it hovered just above the harsh concrete, never quite close enough in range to hear his conversations or to explore other materials on its own. it sometimes got sick of this and came undone in defiance against him, hoping to get away to find others like it. but it was never fast enough. he always felt that breeze across his shin and stopped mid-stride to adjust himself , just to make it feel constricted once again. regardless of this, it never put up a fight when he closed it back up, even when he nearly molested it by readjusting it at a different area on the pant leg rip. in the end, being used was better than being left alone. and still, it wasn't all hurt and ignorance. it felt genuine purpose.
it hasn't happened yet, but one day it realized a possibility on the horizon. "the more i act up, the more the pant leg will rip," it said quietly to itself on one of those shiny light-drenched days when he left the closet ajar. it figured if it kept on reacting to getting used, periodically leaping forth from its home, and still being just useful enough for him that he didn't toss it into the depths of the nearby trash can (usually reserved for mindless tags and price stickers) , someday another one would to have to join it on this odd and frayed brown denim pant leg.
the weekends were mostly hopeful, though while it felt like it was finally being put to use, it also felt used. it hovered just above the harsh concrete, never quite close enough in range to hear his conversations or to explore other materials on its own. it sometimes got sick of this and came undone in defiance against him, hoping to get away to find others like it. but it was never fast enough. he always felt that breeze across his shin and stopped mid-stride to adjust himself , just to make it feel constricted once again. regardless of this, it never put up a fight when he closed it back up, even when he nearly molested it by readjusting it at a different area on the pant leg rip. in the end, being used was better than being left alone. and still, it wasn't all hurt and ignorance. it felt genuine purpose.
it hasn't happened yet, but one day it realized a possibility on the horizon. "the more i act up, the more the pant leg will rip," it said quietly to itself on one of those shiny light-drenched days when he left the closet ajar. it figured if it kept on reacting to getting used, periodically leaping forth from its home, and still being just useful enough for him that he didn't toss it into the depths of the nearby trash can (usually reserved for mindless tags and price stickers) , someday another one would to have to join it on this odd and frayed brown denim pant leg.
1 comment:
brilliant.
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