creative
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How you shatter through me Like the conversation piece Spoken of but not to How you believe I fade into The shadows of neglect Yet I shimmer violently Without meaning to And I have half a mind to ask for pardon… How these bruised knuckles Have hardened Into the softener of calloused hearts I weep…
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And that’s okay baby,You’re on your path.You’re not ready to be seenWhile I’m ready to be felt. When riptides collide with undercurrentsThundering like torrential mercenaries…Nothing on you…However, this heart is not availableFor target practice. I’d rather be at peace with myselfVersus at war with the world.Than to be at peace with the worldAnd at war…
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I know you won’t see this letter because you’re off somewhere trying to get better… I hope you know you haven’t faded behind your demons’ shadows and that someone unconditionally loves you. I heard our song today, and was stung by jagged memories poisoned with nostalgia, I could taste your name in the corner of…
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The sea does not apologize for its depth. The mountains do not seek forgiveness for taking up space. And the sun does not ask permission to shine. So, why would I?
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I wanted to burrow Instead of bursting through hardened soil I felt buried versus rooted I blindly bloomed In the process Of becoming Maybe buds are Scentless Due to an evolutionary adaptation— Self preservation. Often times things of youth are only perceived as fragile, Birthing is battle.
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Tombstones chiseled By broken promises Epitaphs echoing like sonnets Palm reading like Pslams Extended fingers, prayer palms Hoarse prayers transporting High hopes in low riding Hearses. Heralding heresy Impunitive immunity Ignatus ambiguity, Illuminous dimming Wistfully witting.
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Artist Credit/IG: @no_i.d.707 How people like you and I have gazed into the windows of black serpents with opalescent eyes. Few wonder how death is so beautiful, her form and her sound. The warmth felt in the release from holding onto things we never really wanted in the first place — and so one of…
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Don’t mistake control for interest. This manipulation does not Make you special… distractions fromKarmic lessons. Black eyes are the same huesOf dying starsNeon darkness — begotten blightIn denial, we proceed to nameUnborn children “Sunlight”How ironic it is to hear Your soundReminding me how I wound upIn this position to begin with. You had me upside…
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Lashing out at being lashed. Don’t need you to hurt, don’t need you to feel and heal. Know that your presence is a gift—honor that.
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I have been an Electrician…Constantly rewiring My neural pathwaysUnlearning Life lessonsThat were never explicitly taught. I learned how to read Braille subtextWith trembling fingertipsIn an environment Where I was forbidden To feel. I was taughtThat expressing my hurtWas not valid within itself—It was an act ofDefiance or Disobedience I used to resistBeing an active participant…
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Crazy what happens when you get off your clown shit and get promoted to ringleader. I take joy in being a traveling circus.
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“You’re so full of yourself!” Like it’s a bad thing. Have they ever taken a moment to think about what the fuck that even means? I now love to respond with, “As opposed to who? Who else am I supposed to be full of? Beyoncé? I am proud and only wish to be full and…
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Fuck you. And also, fuck me too. We’re not in this life together but that doesn’t mean we can’t come together. Turn the petty to prosperous.
