Who the Fuck is You?

An older poem I wrote but had not shared. It was 2 months after I moved to DTLA and much of it is still true. It was meant as spoken word and I edited and modified it to fit my more contemporary mind.

Who The Fuck is You?
By David Vincent Cortez

Id' tell you what my name is,
but,
in a city like this
with people like her and him,
Hungry, teeming spirits,
aren't we all.

I came here, 2 months to the day.
I joined the throng of people,
nameless until they speak.
This place where giants tall of steel
tower above,
the old ones and the weak.

Like him and her, my name is Dream,
because that's what's in my heart.
Amid the many,
looking down while they walk as
I look up as I talk...
to meet those giants with my eyes.
No matter the ground where
people like bees,
pollinate concrete,
I'm searching for my place in this
to root my restless feet.

But why do we create our worlds
apart
from one already here?
The buildings built and fences keeping out
perspectives new and clear.

Because,
It's not good enough for us who came
to build a brand new "me".
Those of us who carve ourselves from outta stone
and CHOOSE identity.

The world is ours to paint our way
and change ourselves into,
the mutherfuckers we ought to be
from the fearing ones they knew.
That's not just me it all of us, cuz,
who the fuck is you?

So here I stand, a face, but not a given name,
because what's important is not this face
but,
the reason that I came.

I came to be.