To write
    is to be
       is to see
    is to feel
is to seal
in the gaps
between your heart
and your mind
so you may continue
to create and weave
these precious words
that contain
so much meaning

turn that shit uuup

"I take it in stride one day at a time,
if I ask no questions I hear no lies.
How come blessings only come in disguise?
I try to emphasize as i vocalize.
Ain't nothin' gunna get between me and my flow,
ain't nothin' gunna come between me and my afro.
My man just, left what do ya know.
Easy come, easy go.
He came out of the blue
and went right back into it,
he had to forfeit cause he couldn't get with it.
Called it quits and when he split
he said he didnt have time
for my juvenial bull shit.

There's only one me in the galaxy,
I am an indangered species.
This kind of flower don't grow on Earth,
just lettin' ya know for what it's worth.
This kind of action can cause a depression
so I bide my time with philosophical questions.
Not for nothin', but what came first,
the chicken nugget or the egg McMuffin?
I got talent and I got tits,
I know I'll find another guy that wants to get with it.
I'm not convinced that I'm a big fat whore,
one man's pleasure is another man's chore."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1ltDw_Oi24&ob=av2n 

clouds came on time

why is rain
looked upon
as a miracle

while tears
are looked
at with regret?

we are not
tied emotionally
to the drops
of a cloud

but tears,
no doubt,
leave scars.

do we consider
feeling
a passage,
something we are
born with?

i don’t think
that’s right.

i think
feeling
is the miracle,
and rain

is there to
wash it away
when we aren’t
ready for
anyone else
to see

what it looks
like when you
actually
care...

impressions

You can’t always get what you want. Just because something feels real doesn't mean that it is, or even though things go to shit, it doesn't mean that what you felt wasn't real. Life is about fingerprints and footsteps: those shadows we impress upon each other... however shallow such impressions may grow to be.


We walk out of this world with dimpled flesh and hearts tattooed with half-finished conversations, shards of wine glasses, sarcasm honed to a razor’s edge, and endless sentries of streetlights — those caustic Philistines who ever bore witness to our shame. The thing is, we like to write until there is an ending, until a sole dot punctuates the deep silence hanging above resolution like a halo.


But death is not a period. For many of us, at least, there is no curtsy or curtain call... There is no fading out into blackness while violins and cellos frame our exit. When we mourn, it is not because it's the end, but because there is no resolution. And we mourn and we mourn because our skin still prickles and the goosebumps come at night until the weight of everything we can’t forget becomes eternal.

sneezy

i think what i felt for you 
was something like a sneeze: 
i felt it coming before everyone else... 
starting out slow, just a tickle 
easily ignored, until it rushed forward 
all at once, overwhelming, 
and at that point I knew 
it was gonna be messy 
so you handed me
some bullshit tissue 
without saying ‘bless you’
and maybe it took
me a while to clean up,
make myself presentable,
but eventually
i threw that "tissue" away 

without saying thank you

and life carried on.

things always stayin' consistent

you would think
i would have learned
how to disconnect by now
with all of the backseats
that i’ve been trained in,
with all of the empty lines
i’ve memorized for my own use

Mature secrets? Or secret maturity?

There is nothing
That I would love more
Than to piss you off,
Settle the score.
In fact, it's what
I'd typically do:
Say mean things,
Throw words at you.
But now, I'm proud
because for the time
I've placed someone eles's
Feelings ahead of mine.
Not so fast, don't let
That (also) go to your head,
Don't misinterpret
What you read.
No, you,
You I would rather see cry,
But your friend whose involved-
He could possibly die.