All I see is bad intentions,
in the faces of the ones I love the most
in their voices when they talk to me
around me, over me.
All I see is bad intentions
I hear them, in the hushed whispers of
conversations that take place when I’m not in the room.
Secret messages encoded
cloaked in my insecurities
masked in contentment.
All while I scream in silence.
All I see is bad intentions.
Wishing that I could kill off my anxieties
knowing that is so deeply embedded in me.
I hate myself for this.
I loved a black boy once.
He was black and quirky,
he danced and wrote poetry.
and I loved him in ways that you
can only love a quirky black boy
who danced and wrote poems.
I loved him softly,
with a chest full of flowers.
I offered it to him,
as a bed to rest his head,
to leave his mask and costume at the door.
And I offered him my arms
they provided him room
And every time he exhaled
I wanted to collect them all
in my lungs
and save them for his…
You tend to move too fast, expecting maximum results when effort has yet to reach its pinnacle.
Your goals are big and grand, so you demand perfection.
But you are sporadic.
Chasing ideas. Schemes.
Means to Ends that simply havent been mapped out properly.
But you run. head on. All in.
But you forgot to breathe.
The easiest part.
I understand where you are coming from.
But you must think before you jump.
Consider the fall.
Your focus has always been the reward… I get it.
There’s a hunger for more than what this world has…
Yesterday on September 7, 2018 Malcolm James McCormick, also known as Mac Miller, passed away from an apparent drug overdose. Fans and fellow musicians and artists took to twitter and other social media platforms to express their sadness and to pray for the rapper’s family and friends.
It was no secret that the rapper suffered from addiction, he put it all in his music. It was also brought to the forefront of the media’s attention when the rapper’s girlfriend, singer Ariana Grande, broke off their two-year relationship this year in the month of May. …
See her there.
Sun bathing in moonlight.
Stripped bare of all things that hinders her.
She is a special kind of magical,
the kind that demands your attention with a subtle smirk on the corners of her lips.
Or only a glance in your direction.
The moon’s child.
Only lulled by the mundane.
She seeks a freedom only tangible in the universe she has discovered within.
She is a special kind of free.
The word to define the wildness of her heart eludes me.
That wildness cannot be fathomed by the laws of this land.
She is only moved by…