I should just give up 

Give up living 

Give up trying to be something I’m not 

Fighting not to become the person that I am 

And it’s pathetic 

After all who said I’d never 

They can finally say that I didn’t 

Prophetic  justice for all the bad shit that I’ve done! 

And I’m hurting 

Busy hurting me 

Thinking I’m hurting you 



you’re searching

pleading for love

from a rock

wishing you could melt his stoney heart

just because you will it

but will it

make the difference

loving someone who will never love you back

and its bullshit

pretending to be happy

in marital bliss

with something that could never feel you too

at some point in time

it gets exhausting

the numbness

as you begin to change

getting cold

discarding friendships

sitting in silence

refusing to share

what little humanity you have left…

then you’re gone

remnants of your former self dehydrated

sucked dry

until there is only stone left…

Give it a little time…

it’s late

or early

depending on whose clock were going by

everything was fine

the spark was there

bodies warm

with hormones and body fluids

and the progression was steadily progressing

to the point where we couldn’t help but touch

but somewhere between the spinal cord and brain

something deviated

distorted signals

ignoring cues

and then it was over,

leaving only numbness

and the whirling of a mechanic motor nearby,

the silence is filled with mute screaming and unshed tears

but this is nothing new

a well practised number

that has final reached its crescendo


its early…


but time doesn’t wait for wounds to heal

and sores to scab…

Tired Drafts and Exhausted Words…

I’m blocked again….

busy writing drafts

and mediocrity.

drafts that sound the same

like stale music on an ipod

that goes on and on,

which begin to nag on the brain after a while.

i’m caught up

in my feelings and my relationships

trying to deal with my shit

and handle my business

but i think that i’ve bitten off

just a tad bit more than

i could choke on

and i’m choking

becoming necrotic from the inside out

poetry dying

stuck in drafts folders, notes

and gray matter

coiled tightly in neurons

that should know better…

now who’s frustrating who…

No strings attached

I’m greedy

not merely satisfied

owning your body

I want to own your heart.

I know its complicated

and i knew the situation,

that you were not available

for me to love

no strings attached

was that what it was suppose to be?

to be honest it fought it

the attraction

to your eyes

your stare

your smile

the look that takes over as you climax…

I’m impressed

at everytime that you impress me

showing me

bits and pieces of more than just skin.

I know your situation

that your heart was too damaged to be available

to love

and i should respect that

and honestly,

i do

respect you

but every other day

when my mind lingers

I remember why rules were meant to be broken

my rules




my mantra “don’t fall in love with this man”

wasted breath

and  useless  antics.

I never wanted to love


this much

at all…

but in between bodies tangled

and tangled sheets

i just did.

so this post is my breakout post… I’ve gotten back into my over reading and over drafting and trying to make sure that a poem is perfect or at least close before posting…. I’ve written almost every day for the month and what do i have to show for it, an inbox full of drafts. so… first post with no long winded grammar or spell checks, no revision X 10… no bullshit.

The Stubborn Part Of Me

hey lovies… this is my girlfriends blog…. a cool poet and awesome singer


In addition to the good within there also lies the bad
The feeling that leaves you emotionally torn and makes your heart grow sad
So before I mention all good things I must make a disclaimer
Cause the stubborn part takes over me & I often tend to blame her…
For the reason why I yell & curse, making people cry
For the reason why I throw in the towel & give up after 1st try
And also why I choose to vent through physical abuse
Instead of verbalizing in a political dispute

I use it as a crutch to support me when my heart gets broken
I use it as a paradox when words are left unspoken

Somehow I’ve taken me for granted
I let hatred be
Yet still I blame it all on the stubborn part of me…
For the reason why we’ve broken up & grown so…

View original post 120 more words



The crazies always come out late at night 

It seems 

When it’s dark 

And raining 

And people are asleep. 

They walk in roads 

Sitting on corners 

Feeding stray dogs 

From bins and boxes 

And all the yucky things 

That we scorn! 

They talk at the top of their lungs, 

Or so they feel 

Arguing with imaginary friends 

And villains.

It… Is sad 

Seeing lives wasted 

And people hurt

Destroyed by decisions and circumstances,

Some times I pity them 

The crazies 

Them and their shabby cardboard houses and tattered clothes 

Sometimes I could care less 

Too caught up in my shit to be bothered!

But it bothers me


The crazies 

The people 

The humans

That are just like me! 

Struggling to survive 

On the revolving hamster wheel of life. 

It should concern me a little bit more than it does 

But I am still caught up 

Drowning in technology 

And social media 

Loosing my humanity 

With each text message I send. 

I should be bothered 

Guess what?

You should too! 

The After, after


I know it’s good when I dont think 

When emotion melts away 

And insecurities fade into the background.

I’ve become a super human 

Hearing moans you barely uttered 


Incoherent languages 

And pleads 

“Baby, don’t stop” 

But I don’t hear them,

too busy 

in my zone 

Keeping rythmn in my mind 

And tempo in my legs! 

Most times I’m shaking, 

When it’s all over 

My body unable to cope 

With the electricity flowing through me

To you 

And it almost shocks 

When our fingers touch… 

But for me, it’s the smell

A mix of musk and sweat

my mouth begins to water just contemplating 

Taking you again… 

I know it’s good…

Cause it’s always good!

That New Smell…

IMG_2245.JPG As a woman, my vagina is one of  the last thing that I would want to discuss publically. some things you just dont talk about;  tampons and douching and all the other gagets that are inserted into a vagina isn’t a discussion you have  over Sunday dinner. No woman wants to think of that area as smelly or fishy or stale. However, sometimes, women have stale coochie, its nothing spectacular, nothing to talk about or even write about. But this culture of silence when it comes to vaginal issues is getting a little old and tired. The only issue everybody  wants to discuss is what comes out of a vagina, how old, viable and why it will always be murder. Sometimes every vagina has an odor…as much as we would like to live in a fantasy world where our down yonder parts retains that “just showered” scent, we should face it, doesn’t, and that’s ok! however there are products that we can use to deal with the “I just ran seven miles on a treadmill” scent. Most women have a vaginal hygiene routine and if you dont have one, you probably should start one. I recently began using Summer’s eve, I’ve always heard women say that they used it and I use to scoff at that. Thinking that it was for “bad sick” or infections, boy was I wrong. I got this morning paradise one for sensitive skin, let me tell you, IT WORKS! I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so fresh and clean and horny! I don’t think it’s a side effect of using it, but my little lady smelt so good, I just wanted someone else to bask in her awesomeness. It seems sometimes that our “lady” hygiene is dependent on when we will be having some sex. Now I’m no feminist, but what does your vagina have to do with a man? Yes… They make it feel all good, make you feel like you can climb walls and become prima ballerina. But him coming and going shouldn’t lessen the importance of care you give to yourself. So because he loves a bushy vagina, you let it grow uncontrollably? Women need to stop allowing men to dictate what happens with the girlie parts. If they don’t like it, tough! Sometimes you can compromise for the man who is in your life, after all, he does spend some time there, he should be comfortable, but so should you. That being said, we need to take care of our ladies, make her feel nice, give her a lil trim {or wax, if your into that kinda thing}, use some pH balanced products, make her smell clean. She doesn’t need to smell like daisies, just not like Pollock either. She may not be much, may not the right shape or size but she’s all you have, treat her well.