Pack up your suitcase;
It's time now to fly.
If you're willing and ready,
I'm ready to die.
My mind has been bombed,
Yet the Earth is unscathed.
You want to know something? It’s not that difficult to notice you've fucked up.
Let me clarify. When you know you fucked up and act as if you didn’t, it won’t fool anybody. You can fool yourself into thinking you didn’t fuck up, but you still fucked up. When you act as if nothing happened it lays on your eyes as it reflects the objects facing it. You can’t hide what a soul has desperately grieved over for so long. You can’t live a separate life from the ones carrying your eyes and holding your grief as they fight your battle. You drown yourself the more you attempt to breathe underwater. You sink and can’t swim without a gasp of air you so desperately wish you could picture without suffocating. You have the desire to reach your hand out not knowing whether a hand will grasp onto your sorrows or if you can even hold a hand long enough to reach the shore and realize it’s gone. You. You’re gone.
There will be no blood on my hands when we part ways.
I am used to being a caregiver.
I give too much of myself to others and get nothing back in return.
There is no remedy for jealousy.
There is only gas lighting,
And projection of one's own feelings onto another person.
I am an easy target,
“I love the word no for its prudence”
I love the word no for its cautiousness?
I hate the word no
It never works
I hate the word no for not being powerful enough to have people understand that no is no.
When she is 16 years young you’re 24 years old and invite her on a date, only to shove her head down on your adult penis, what power does she have?
wash me in burger grease and lightly salt mean American baptismsecluded in the Church walls of an old RVconvert me into a Backyard Barbecue BelieverI want to drown in the Independence Day pool partycleanse me of my olive skinbleach me with chlorine and hot dog juicestuff me with a new mind like a Thanksgiving Turkeymy old heart is as valuable as that of an artichokeI want to feel the caloric buzz in my bloodstreamI want to be the last foot marching in the paradeI want to fade into the crowd, the angry mob, the happy peopleI want to be no one but a collective entityI'll kill the foreignerto feel alive here
a mirage. a kaleidoscope of every fabricated personality—crafted by flicking fluorescent lights and nicotine smoke—each one lacking consistency. I struggled for perfection—looking for criticism in every attentive glance. taking note of what worked and with who. my patience slipped like sand in a slanted hourglass— I began to let that all go— you claimed to have lost someone you never knew. you spit in my face from a decaying float on your pity parade. a thin veil of victim covered slick crocodile tears. jealousy bloomed from your palms tracing your veins in spider webbed moss
The first time I felt your body intimately against mine was powerful.
You held my body in your arms as if I was paper thin, fragile, warmth flowed through your skin into mine.
I just like you was carried from man to woman
I just like you sprouted for nine months
I just like you grew
the same words
a thousand times
trying to find
whip em up
Kinky, curly, or nappy I love my natural hair and it makes me happy to
be unapologetically me and that makes me feel free.