There’s a void that needs to be noted.

The space where my creativity nourished,

is now buried in a box of long past gone lovers.

Clinging to a crippled paper,

hoping that…

dreams can straighten and recover.

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I Bid Farewell To The Exile Kings.

I bid farewell to the Exile Kings:
the street warriors, the broken hearted lovers,
the silent activist, the bloodless brothers.
Y’all go by many names, but will forever remain my drunkn’ friends.

In a small boat I sailed alone and astray with time’s current steering my vessel.
The sea is unforgiving in its own way, suffocating the heart with uncertainty
and drowning the mind with whispers from the Devil.
Despite its cruel intentions, I owe the sea and time for these past memories.

We found each other as outcast do by shipwrecking into one another’s boat.
We took the remains of our wreckage and united our ship, building a crew steadily as we went.
Everyone spilled blood around a table soaked in beer within a fog formed by cigarette smoke
Our philosophy and speeches won’t be found in any textbook but in a book.

I never been good at saying bye, but I never been good at saying hi.
Stay true to you and never give up on your dreams, I write you this to remember me by.

Dear June,

Dear June,
I’ve completely shut all senses.
My body in reality ignoring responsibilities
My mind in limbo till late noon.
I’ve turned to new substances,
harder deadlier substances to reawaken the consciousness,
leaving track marks on the skin.

Tent City.

He laid in bed
in the same place
everyone throws their garbage,
underneath the bridge of I-45.
All he wanted was change
but the world gave him
dimes, quarters, and tokens.

I looked at him as I crossed
the underpass, heading to
job number two,
and he looked at I.

I dropped him a five,
and so desperately wished
I was him
as he did with I.