In My Head

The Block

The Block

I don't like slinging dope on the corner because

who knows who's watchin me.

I keep my money tucked deep into my pockets because

A nigga will run up on me, thinking he gonna rob me, thinking he can outsmart me

A nigga trippin cause what he don't know is I keep the stick by my side

I'm not about to get robbed,

I'm not about to get shot and I'm not about to get my stash snatched.

I'll kill if I have to, cause I'm not the one who's gonna sit back and let

Somebody punk me. I'm not a punk.

I don't make eye contact wit nobody but I see the eyes of everybody.

Aware of my surroundings, this block is the block I grew up watchin.

This block is where my brother Ronnie got shot at.

This block is also the block where my little cousin died, blood spewing from

His mouth because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time wit a

Drugged out mother looking for her next fix, she didn't cry.

She ran. She ran because she couldn't stand to see her son

Coughing up blood under the hundred degree sun two Julys ago

I was thirteen.

I wasn't there, but I heard my little cousin cried out for mama and

Before the ambulance could get there he took his last breath, reaching for

A woman I will never respect again.

She didn't even show up to his funeral.

This block is the block my daddy got arrested on. Midnight, November,

2019, he used his fist to end a man's life in a fight.

I was there. I saw him slam knuckles into cheek bones, into a skull.

Over and over and over because he looked at him wrong.

I can't describe the sound I heard that night, but it likes

To sneak up on me when I least expect it.

I remember yelling, 'Dad stop, you're going to kill him.' But my dad

Is not a quitter, no. He kept going even as the man begged him to stop.

He kept going even as the man's hands fell to his sides. My dad,

Enraged, growling things I couldn't comprehend. I knew police were coming

Because sirens blared even before they were visible.

I never saw somebody die like that. The man choked out 'I'm sorry.'

That was somebody's father. Somebody's husband. Somebody's son.

I tried to close my eyes but when Dad got off him he told me to be a man

And look. He told me to quit being a pussy,

He told me that this is the way the world worked and to get used to it.

'Don't ever let nobody disrespect you like that, son,' he said and I was confused.

The man didn't say anything, he looked at my dad and maybe that

Was the disrespect he felt.

I watched the cops come. I watched the cops get out of their cars,

Guns pointed at us and I cried. That was the last time I cried for a long

Ass time

Because I knew Dad would probably

Never see the outside of a prison again, and I'd have to be the man

Of a house that was already falling apart. He didn't care.

He smiled as they shoved him in the cop car. He smiled as they read him his rights. He smiled as they spoke to me like I was some dumb kid, and I was, back then.

This block is mine and ain't nobody gonna take that from me,

Without a fight.

Bang. Bang.

A gun goes off somewhere and I duck down because don't nobody

Want to get hit by a stray. I know I don't. I got responsibilities.

You see, I got three younger sisters. Age five, eight and ten. They depend on me.

My mama work all day at a hotel that don't pay her shit and she's a waitress

At night.

She cleans rooms, gets screamed at and disrespected, yet she still

Works like nothing is wrong. I see her at the end of her days. She

Puts in extra hours whenever she can cause dad left us this way.

The pay at both jobs suck, she hardly has enough to cover the rent to our apartment, pay for gas, food, and the other bills.

So, I sell dope on the block because my sisters need to eat and I want my

Mom to be stress free. She hates asking for help, so she got me.

My sisters didn't ask to be born into this. They didn't ask to go to bed hungry Most nights. It drives me crazy because ... well because my dumb ass daddy Should be here doing his damn job, but he's serving twenty years in a cell.

I'll make enough money to put food into my sisters mouths because they

Are my responsibility since I'll be the only man there to take care of them. I might

As well be their father. I read them books at night and the little ones come to my Room when they have nightmares. I make them lunch and I take them to school And I protect them as best I can from this cruel cruel world.

My goal is to get them out. They don't need to grow up in the hood where they Gotta worry about getting shot while playing at the park, or walking to the store Or sitting in their room. Bullets don't have no names and I don't want their names To be engraved on one meant for somebody else.

I don't stick around to find out who's shooting, it's time for me to get home.

They're waiting on me to read them a story so they can sleep.

I know Mama leaving for work soon and they'll be alone and I need to be there cause I hate when they alone.

Soon I will be the father figure.

Around my sisters, my gun is shoved away, the dope

is hidden because I don't want them to see me as a monster,

as a villain, as their brother who stands on the corner in Chiraq

living a dangerous life. They don't need to lose any more people.