He is a self-destructive mass of fury who is so depraved, he would pull a knife on his own brother. The designer clothes he pilfered from some poor, helpless individual can barely contain the rage within him because his anger seeps out of his pores. It dances around you, coaxing you to be infuriated too.
He sulks in the shadows when he is not irate and lashing out at someone. He hisses responses, comments or commands. He never talks and has forgotten how people communicate; rather he uses bestial grunts to convey his dissatisfaction with the world.
The demons inside of him permeate the air around him engulfing his victims and leaving them more contrary than before they interacted with him. He causes his mother to weep inside and his father to suppurate visibly. Where did we go wrong, is the only question that comes to mind in his presence.
His asylum is a pipe, a needle or sometimes a simplistic, rudimentary marijuana joint. Whatever can dull his pain and self-disappointment. Whatever can conceal his self-humiliation. His scents are distinct. They invade your nose and offend you before you have had a chance to hold your breath and avoid them. Stale urine because he has involuntarily protested showers or harsh weed indicating he is high and more irrational than usual.
You want to slap him and yell, “Get your fuckin’ life together!” However, you don’t know what this could incite. You might end up slammed against a wall, with his huge hands firmly wrapped around your neck, gasping for air.
He has turned into a street nigga though not raised like one. In fact, he was nurtured in a luxury high-rise apartment building in midtown Manhattan with a live-in housekeeper and central air conditioning. His mother nicknamed him ‘Snookums’’ or ‘Snooks’ for short because he was her baby and she thought he was a celestial gift. He never wanted for anything and only experienced mild dissatisfaction on the rare occasion he had to deal with his older bitch of a sister growing up, whom he detested. He always aspired to be a judge. Now, when he is sober enough to know his name, he believes he is capable of being a history teacher.