I am.

This week I wanted to say something eloquent and clever about how it feels to be a black man in America.. or the world for that matter. 

Themes and metaphors about waking up in someone else's home as a (unwelcome) visitor, trapped, with nowhere else to go, yet being constantly told I AM, in fact, home, circled my mind.

And as the mirror society holds steady, without budge, that I am a threat. I am dangerous. I am less than, and I need to know my place. The one thing I do know is:

I am exhausted. 

---

---

 But, tomorrow is always a new day.

cheers,

Buttawear.