fuckboyz

 i used to be insecure as fuck

and these guys used to love being around me.

down, afraid

thinking every woman and man

was above me.


that’s when y’all were around.

advice.

telling me to do better.

“create your own reality.”

“ read this book about enlightenment.”

“ bro, this is how you get girls.”

blah blah blah.


now your love is silence.

and it’s loud as hell.


because now i’m standing in a space

you can’t even touch,

let alone understand.


now that i’m up,

i’m a threat?


i’m more me than i’ve ever been

and i’ve never been this alone.


your silence is the proof.

not peace.

not maturity.

proof that you can’t comprehend

that i actually did this.


no shortcuts.

no cosigns.

no safety net.


y’all are boys.

kids.

goofs.


you liked me better

when i was confused.

when i was asking.

when i needed you.


now you don’t know where to place me.


i live what you intellectualize.

i move where you theorize.

i became the thing

you talk about becoming.


remember

who you’re really talking to.

what you’re really standing next to.

what kind of presence

you’re trying to shrink

with silence.


now i’m the one you study.

now i’m the reference point.

now i’m the room

you feel small in

and don’t know why.


i don’t owe a single one of you

an apology.


not for growing.

not for outpacing you.

not for refusing to stay

where you were comfortable.


take this shit to heart.

i don’t speak loosely.

i don’t move accidentally.

everything i do

is executed.


i never needed a single person.

not one of you boys.


fuck a friendship

that only exists

when i’m beneath you.


this is chess.

and i’ve been thinking

three boards ahead

while you were laughing

at the pieces.


you can’t beat the chess master.

you can’t beat someone

operating in the future.

you can’t match me

head to head with wisdom —

it’s not even competition.


i’m a reflection

of everything you never faced.

everything you avoided.

everything you’re scared

to admit about yourself.


because i know myself.

and i didn’t need

anyone else

to get here.


i don’t bump knucklez

with chumps.


— Mr. Mak


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