The Year of (white) Fun
There are some things I just don’t like to think about.
There are some places I just don’t like to go.
Sometimes I feel so old.
Sometimes I feel false.
Don’t let my face tell you things you don’t know.
You have no idea.
And now I’m not so sure of my age anymore,
when certain things seem out of place.
I tarnished my (white) youth.
Yet I am still only 21?
Yeah twenty-one (and white),
the Year of Fun,
the year I am supposed to fuck everyone.
And get fucked.
Get drunk, do drugs, receive some douche-bag-love.
Well guess what?
I did do all of this.
And I received…
How are we,
supposed to stay young (and white)
/get drunk/fuck/take drugs/suck cock/get up
/keep jobs/get degrees/no babies/no HIV/STD’s
‘Cause shit I feel old.
And now I feel cold because
I am not open to love.
despite my complicated relationship with
(white counterrevolutionary) “wildness”
I feel that this is my time to be uncouth,
To spit off of roofs,
Speak truth through sober tears.
Grit my teeth and name names.
Jess Goldman is a mix of many identities, and not sure how to define herself. She writes her poetry as a means of puzzling out her struggles and placing herself within a world where so many dynamics are constantly at play. She has never been published.