 Welcome to this year's Poetry Slam. My name is Damien and I'm glad to be here. What's up, everyone? Language is a miracle by oil, thirst, and greed and sea. Here, I'm still trying to reconcile this identity that you have given me. Do that insensitive, mindless mass that hath her honor slain. Olifayngalwengal, elepianola supreme. Thermonuclear snakes, their plant thermonuclear stuns across the planet. The water, she says, with trembling butterfly hands. Sister, your body is recreated for you to live in. For the picture you paint is not the picture I deem it to be. We can vote for one person in which we think deserve to go to the next round. The Taliban wanted to strap a bomb to you back. The cops wanted another black boy for target practice. Means we're earning and saving for a common wealth. I've built entire galaxies running from my demons. I will do everything in my power to get out of bed so that I can see him. I am not lazy. Giving a direction with the rhythm of your words. Every decision made with precision is you bounce ideas of other people. And when you reach the end of the court, you line up your aim with analogies and metaphors and slam dunk your message into the ears of those who listen. When we kiss, you steal my ability to speak and I am just a little bit more than tongue tied, but not quite speechless and I will obviously always be bashful with something to say around you, but you make me fire truck engine red and I'm the luckiest man to be alive kind of way.