You called me your brother.
you said I have been kinder, more patient, and willing to listen than anyone else that you knew
that I have been available,
and capable of helping you solve your issues
You said “Yo Greg I wish you and I could spend more time together"
and now in this january weather
on this Canarsie Bound L train
you my co-pilot, in the seat beside me,
we going to a party of some people
people I barely knew,
I am questing the meaning of the word,
Webster says a friend is
a person who you like and enjoy being with
a person who helps or supports someone or something
But the one thing that pisses me off to no extent is that
you after 19 years said I was your best friend.
funny thing about memory,
it is this little thing that takes and saves the snapshots from those moments that define our personality.
And so I am hunting for a definition that can match your meaning.
It is seems that my memory recalls the only thing you doing for me
was to use me for your enjoyment,
and interns of supporting
you only served to tear down the beams that others have helped me build.
You told me that we were friends,
yet when I see your face I see every lie you told about me,
and every secret I thought sacred within this friendship
Im doubting your definition.
Almost as if every freckle on your #TeamLightskin fat pudgy fugly face
could have been a moment you took to care about me
we still wouldn't be equal, because if freckles equal favors
in order for you to be equal you would like me
You say friend,
I hear leach,
You say we’re bros
I hear nothing more but weak lines you use to salvage your ticket out of the hell hole you call your life.
In this memory bank,
I’m looking for that moment when you showed random acts of kindness to me,
you know like bringing you lunch,
listening about the girls you’ve hunted
or served as a punching bag literally or emotionally so that you would have lesser aggression.
I’ve sectioned off parts of my day
only so that you’d section me out of your friend group
I remember, my last name being something other than the truth out of your lips
you claimed word slip
yet when words like blows, balls, holes,
substitute for Boles I went from Gregory boles
to your bitch
You spread rumors about relationships that I was in,
pinned my social status to a point where I spoke slave
and your word was law
I have cuts that go deeper to than you imagine
I have insecurities you would dare to fathom
and you daily you went from a human being
to a fire breathing dragon
spewing nothing more than bullshit about Bitches and fashion
On the way to this party as you are talking about the fun were about to have
the turn up thats about to happen
the bitches with the fattest asses
and then you slip in, some where between dancehall and all the drinking
that the only reason that your mom allowed you to go to the party
is because you said Gregory Is going be there
So now I am servant,
to be used to make your life easier
waiting hand and foot to be the
stepping stone for your ladder to fun
and It goes on,
This party was ok but you decided not only when to leave
but planned ahead of time to ask your friend for a ride home,
And left me in this home I’ve never been in
apologized and when you left you didn’t tell me
See my pocket isn’t deep enough to afford a cab at 3:01 am
and the darkness of canarsie is not comforting to take the train
but in the end You called me your friend
… and I ask why
Maybe its because I feel I can make you better
or make you lesser of an asshole
Maybe because your family ties
I find to rival mine
And so here I am reflecting on the definition you used
and choose to move on
After all spending all of my time money effort, and patience
Derris you barely are an acquaintance.