Ray Cantgetright delivers a spoken-word monologue about childhood trauma, abuse, and suicidal thoughts while a friend checks in on him by phone. The piece cycles through desperation and self-destructive urges, ending with brief reassurance and expressions of love.
Maybe I can find the love I've never felt. Maybe someone would see me as wanting to be kept. Maybe, maybe I'm just a curse pushed out the womb, waiting on the hearse. I'd rather be dead than to be alone. Damn, I'm My mind's playing tricks on me, just like that one song. There's no way to explain this pain. It hurts so deep. I don't know how to stop the rain. Childhood memories race through my mind. I wish I could have left them behind, but they taunt me daily, just like Rosemary's baby. Grow up, be a man. Her words hurt so bad. I'll send you away if you make another mistake. Heavy load never lifted, it just shifted to the current relationship. This is why I cry daily. I need to be loved, I need to be hugged, but vulnerability only lives in the child. Meanwhile, real men never struggle. If you do, then you labeled unstable, still in the cradle, not fit to lead. At least that's what was told to me by one of my idols, said that to my face as he clutched that black Bible. Put away— said, forget your pain if you want to go to heaven. But you talking to me, a descendant of a slave, on 9/11? Maybe I can find the love I've never felt. Maybe someone will see me as wanting to be kept. Maybe, maybe I'm just a curse pushed out the womb, waiting on in a hearse. I'd rather be dead than to be alone. Damn, my mind's playing tricks on me, just like that one song. Last night I woke up screaming from a traumatic attack. One stepdad, one pipe, left big scars on my back. He had money though, so low self-esteem. Single mom, no men around. Guess that's why she took him back. Wanted to kill him. Childhood dreams, when I got older, Found dead in the truck alone. Guess God's revenge was colder. The little boy still weeps, just in a different way. Smash that ass, make that cash, but the pain never goes away. Maybe I can find the love I've never felt. Maybe someone would see me as wanting to be kept. Maybe, maybe I'm just a curse pushed out the womb, waiting on her I'd rather be dead than to be alone. That's why you ain't nothing. Damn, my mind's playing tricks on me on that. You just like that one song. Grab the gun. No one cares anyway. Nobody's gonna miss you. Look at your life. You're like on a hamster wheel. You're never gonna move forward. You're never gonna be anything. You're not a real man. You're a boy. Go ahead, grab the gun. Do that right. You'll get that right. You won't miss.
Go ahead.
Just do it. Go ahead. Just take it out. No one cares. These are tears. The tears means nothing to nobody. That's why you're here by yourself. No one cares about you. You're not a man. You're worse. You're a black man. Hello? Hello? Hello? Hey, what up, un? What you doing? Man, I just had the craziest dream.
The way you were breathing, it was dry, wasn't it? You all right?
Yeah, man, I'm better.
Okay, okay. No, seriously though, I know joke around, but you good?
Yeah, yeah, shit. Thanks. Yeah. Woo, boy, I'm glad you called.
Okay. Nah, I know, you know, so we all do our wellness check. All right. You sound like you need to get yourself together, man. Uh, call me back once you want to talk about it or whatever.
Yeah, man. Whew. Shit. That's, that's crazy. That's crazy. All right, Unc.
Love you, man.
Talk to you later, man. Love you too.
All right.
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