My Darkest Prayer

by S.A. Cosby

But comfortable is to art what sugar is to tea. Too much and you ruin it.

“Bless your heart,” which is Southern for “Fuck you, bitch,” if she hadn’t expired.

“Fools and flies both I do despise, but the more I know of fools, the more I like flies,”

They all said the same thing when it came to the hard shit. You never forgot that first hit. It’s like a door opens in your mind and you spend the rest of your life trying to find the key to lock it. The ugly truth is that there is no key. You destroyed it when you got your first taste.

He just wanted to fight. I wanted to kill him.

And make no mistake, no matter how we see you, the world is going to see you as Black. And there’s not a damn thing wrong with that. It is how the world treats you because of it that’s wrong.

Talk shit. Spit blood.

Funeral business was the last place where segregation was openly tolerated in America. You can have your interracial marriages and mixed-race babies and white hip-hop artists and Black rockers, but when you died, it was still the amount of melanin in your skin that determined who lowered you into the ground.

“No one ever buries an evil man, Nate. Death makes everyone a saint,”