We have lust my man. 

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I see it in his eyes, it's a sadness that reels me in.

Maybe I like the walls because then mine don't seem so high.

There is comfort in being surrounded even when you're alone.

Entangled together, but emotionally drone.

Let's not go too deep, cause surface is what we do.

"Good to see you, how you doing?"

Snap me later.

But wait, should I date her?

Questions arise but we disguise the caring for confusion,

and the unknowing to keep us going.

To ask for answers I wont hear until you swallow your fear, is an inevitable broken heart for 2.

I don't dine with destiny, I let fate debate his garbage with god. 

And it may seem fickle to trash talk serendipity but I've put in my time so where's my dime?

Ive intended, to enhance the colors of my heart.

I'm ready.....for a fresh start.

Organic, local.....I mean I want it to come naturally.

I hate to share my love, it comes straight from the essence above 

And it's potent and devoted to healing all things sad

Look at me, I'm your mirror, I can see clearer, can't you? 

Let's skip the tears and grab the fears, by the root of it all. 

We have lust my man. 

And absolutely no plan

It's a recipe for love. 

Your name is my future, nice to see you, 

Aren't you glad to snap me?

I’m Single And Okay With It


“Full disclosure: I have a girlfriend.” A friend texted me yesterday minutes before we were to grab a drink. I laughed to myself thinking this must have been slightly eating at him. Conversing with me regularly, not lying, but omitting the whole truth. We had fleeting moments of dating at times when my heart wasn’t whole, but in the recent months we were just friends.

And last night that’s what I needed, a friend, neutral ground to be with someone who knows me. I was coming off a couple days in the countryside with a man with potential, but after real chats with intention and dimension I knew we would never be more than friends. And it saddened me, but more so I just couldn’t wait to drop him off.

It’s funny how the heart knows, holding its contents tight, waiting for the one worth opening for. I wanted it to be real, but I could not for the life of me get my body to feel, anything. So I texted my “friend” I wanted comfort; connection with someone I know would just be there for me. A man I knew who would answer and listen.

I wondered if he thought I was texting him for a rekindling, knowing I have a tendency to keep my intentions cryptic. (What do you mean you can’t read my mind) I loved his straight forwardness and the fact he respects his girlfriend enough to tell me about her. I said “that’s fine” and finished with “actually that’s awesome, when and who and she’s a lucky girl”

We need more truth tellers, more men who are clear with their intentions in and out of relationships. I’m strive to fuck my morse code because vulnerability isn’t always comfortable (ironic I know), but I need a man with presented clear intentions and that requires me to do the same. I think when you meet someone who is your forever person you just know. I haven’t felt in the know for a long while.

And although that lack of knowledge scares me at times, I have a feeling its just part of the process. I don’t care to know anymore. I let my heart take the lead long ago And my mind eventually comes in tow I don’t believe we choose to love whom we do, but fate in the ultimate gate to courtship.

So for now I trust, it’s a must, a non negotiable when it comes to you and me. 

(Published on August 24, 2017 on Thought Catalog)

Dancing Queen

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I danced with the devil & the devil was green 

He said darling, you're the dancing queen.

I said the Queen of England has four drinks a day

I'm a royal, a Taurus, my birthdays in May.

Remember, a Queenie is always elegant and graceful in her ways

A bull often leaves a place in disarray.

I promise I'll try harder, be more wispy while I walk

But more importantly I'll be loyal while I toil; a citizen of the heart.

I danced with the devil and the devil is green.

I dipped my toes in the fire but I chose not to be mean.

Dating Fate

I ran into the one from my past. 

The one that broke me open, left me unsure I'd ever find another lover.

The one I moved cities for and left cities to escape.

I hurt for a long time after we parted

He was my first true lust

The kind of love you develop in the most non challant of ways

A drunk haze

The youth of our folly 

But dear god you made it holy

The "I'm not looking for love but this is a divine time and we cannot predict the way hearts align"

So I gave in and he got under my skin

But sometimes good things have to end.

••• "I'll see you around."

••• "Absolutely" I smiled back knowing we'll never see each other again.

He was in my hood'.

And I was talking to him the way I talk to customers at work.

••• "I saw your brother last week"

•••"He mentioned that."

Even after three years, the air is thick with words unsaid and threads in my head. 

I was going to go to the hardware store, but I decided to be on time. 

I didn't know i had a date with fate.

Destiny is always fucking with me.

I must be pure entertainment for fate and his fickle friends.

Shit like this is always happening to me....or for me. 

I'm taught the latter looms closer to the truth. 

He held Thai food by his side and I wondered if his order is still the same.

Drunken noodles. To match his mind.

I never thought I would walk by this boy turned man and not want to cry.

I still love him but in a you were so good for my younger heart kind of appreciation. 

You eventually stop missing someone you no longer know.

Even so, he may always have a piece of my heart in tow.....

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Rooted Rebellion


I never knew the tattoo I have on my wrist existed in real life.

I finally found my roots tangled on the edge of a college campus in the south. 

Sometimes you dream up images years before they appear. 

I got my tattoo when I was 16, I'm 27 now.

It only took 11 years for me to find the tree I have etched into my wrist.

I used my best friends ID to get that tattoo.

She was 2 years older. 

While my other friend got a heart tattooed on her underparts, I chose a tree. 

It's an odd tattoo for a teenager to want, but there was always a wiseness in my rebellion. 

A sort of let's try this out, but let's make it meaningful as well. 

I will be bad, but with intention.

The subconscious is a know it all even when we want to ignore, we know. 

We always know. 

I still rebel, mostly with intention, but with a respect for myself and the earth. 

Rebellion has taken on a new meaning these days, a rebellion again perspectives I used to accept without question. 

A retaliation against beliefs I once thought were ok. 

A coming home to my true self, the uncovering of what was always there. 

A girl, rooted in her body, expanded in her mind, looking up for the questions, at moments in time.

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I Am 27 Years Old And I’m Moving Back In With My Parents


While four of my closest friends are moving in with their boyfriends, I’m contemplating moving back in with my parents.

To other 27 years olds this may seem like a step backwards, but sometimes you have to go back to propel forward.

Traditionally, this is a time where people settle with a lover, buy a designer puppy and split a rent together. And while when I was 21 I thought that I would be married by 28, I now have aspirations that perhaps by 27 I’ll stop blacking out.

It seems doable and I read somewhere that it’s very important to set achievable goals because if you set goals and then don’t follow thru it can hinder future aspirations.

And I’m not trying to hold myself back from my future selfie. I should probably feel behind, but honestly I don’t. It’s been so long since I’ve been dependent on someone who isn’t family and I’m not sure I want to rely on someone.

Family is forever; a boyfriend is fleeting. My family is so forgiving, I used to be so mean to my mom when I was younger and she still loves me. I can’t recall any boyfriends who would have put up with me crying in hysterics while simultaneously screaming I hate you and still make me dinner.

But my mom, I can recall many a time she’s forgiven me for what I’ve said when I spoke impulsively. My parent’s love is unconditional. Love doesn’t exist like that anymore. So I’m going back to the source. The tribe.

I have spent the past three years living in expensive cities with low paying jobs to “chase my dreams” and have wound up with a lot of debt and many phone calls home asking for rent money.

I might as well save both parties at the bank. I spent so much of my youth dreaming about leaving my parents and now that I’m “supposed to be on my own” I find myself texting and calling them like a telemarketer.

I’m ready to stop using all the data on the family plan, It’s time I cash in. Thug, money, millennial. AKA my parent’s spare bedroom. On my most recent trip to visit my parents, my mom woke me up with a fresh juice in the morning. How could I not want to move back home? I don’t have to pay rent or buy groceries and I can live next to the ocean?

Sure I’ll have two roommates who are kind of annoying occasionally, but surely they will be better than my current situation.

My roommate has a folder of photos that he keeps to document my dish-washing ineptitudes. So I left a little honey on a spoon I put on the drying rack. With my parents I can say, “we’re all family here”, your honey is my honey. How am I supposed to care about a little crystalized honey when my mind is meddling on ways to save the world.

This whole ‘I’m going to move to the big city and create the life I’ve always wanted to chase my dreams’ is actually a load of shit.

Cause I’ve got expensive taste and I’m not a DIY kind of girl and this life I imagined for myself is kind of a Pinterest fail. The city is tiring and no one mentioned the bills, and how lonely it is to live with three strangers. And no one makes me juice in the morning.

I can see how some people would like to live on their own. Perhaps cultivate a relationship with the opposite sex, eventually move in with said significant other, but why get feelings involved when you could have all the perks with none of the uncertainty. I don’t want to wake up one morning and find out my boyfriend doesn’t like the taste of my honey anymore.

So my four closest friends are moving in with their boyfriends and I’m contemplating moving back in with my parents.

(Published April 10, 2017 on Thought Catalog)

Trusting the Inherent

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A melody I heard threw me in the past

How you came and went so fast

A 3 minute ballad kind of like our love

I'm convinced you were an angel from above

To show me I can conjure up the love

To feel, to give even when I'm hurt

I won't always have to stay on such high alert

The answers aren't always apparent

That's why you trust the inherent

Workings that are happening without your knowing 

They are softly towing 

You along for the good and bad

Trusting you'll choose happiness over sad

You weren't the one for then or now

You were an illusion I did allow

Im supposed to be alone with me 

To roam free....

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Let's Fight the Good Fight Together

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It is our social responsibility to stay conscious.

I hate the news, I think it leaves a horrible imprint on a sensitive soul. Yet, everyday I make a point to take in the turmoil we call our morning news. It’s my daily dose of venom to keep me up to date with the poison that is slowly killing our morale.

Why? For a long time I disconnected, shunned the media to protect myself from the harsh reality. I’m sensitive AF, when I read about people being shot, the target of the week, that person is my brother, my sister, my mother, my cousin, my family. I feel it all; I feel hard. But you know what sucks more than feeling shitty while you drink your coffee?

Feeling scared every.moment.of.every.day. because you were born black in America. I have no idea how that feels and I never will. Perhaps other prejudice I will experience, but in this era I will never know what it’s like to be an African American in America. It’s sad to think that 70 years after the civil rights movement we are still battling for equality.

Strong men and women put their blood, sweat and tears into fighting for the right to feel safe in their own streets and that is not yet a reality. Because of the color of their skin, how do we stand for this, it’s embarrassing. We have a President openly displaying hate and people actually condone that behavior. Are you fucking forealz?

It’s 2017 and if you think being anything but OPEN to new ideas, people, innovations, colors, orientations is ok, YOU are living under a polar ice cap. But I guess we’ll have to wait for those to melt until you start to see the truth cause I bet you think global warming doesn’t exist. But when you see the light (cause the sun is only getting hotter) it will be too late and I don’t want to wait that long. I’m impatient; I’m talking to you, Don. The time is now for a revolution; we must create it. We must engage in conversation. Step outside your fucking comfort zone.

Connect. Question. Converse. Dig. Read. Keep reading and wonder, ponder; how can we as individuals or a small collective of like-minded people make a difference? The answers will surface and when they do I hope a fire is LIT AF in your body. I hope you care enough to pass the torch, whether it’s a shift in perspective or truly listening to someone who needs to be heard.

Let’s band together, let’s connect. Let’s instill more human connection into our everyday interactions. Maybe if we all felt a little more understood we could release the anger, hate, and hopelessness before we turn to rash actions.

Maybe if we felt heard, we could talk it out and express our confusion before innocent people are hurt. Violence is an act of miscommunication of the self. It’s an inappropriate way to express how one feels about a situation. It’s an action of hopelessness and desperation, but fuck does it have an impact. Violence has an impact that carries so much baggage, literally and figuratively. It perpetuates drama and fires people up. Let’s find another way to get fired up. You can’t control others, but you can control your actions. Let’s have a conscious fight, a fair fight, let’s come in peace.

You want to be a badass, create an impact that vibrates love. Violence is low, it’s a dead energy that stirs hate. Let’s stir love and vibrate higher. Be friendly, be open, talk to people and truly listen. Smile, say hi, talk to your Uber driver; set positive examples for humanity. The good fight starts with you.

(Published March 10, 2017 by Thought Catalog)

She's cool, but weird.


I smiled and thought "I'm not for you and you're not for me." We "cheers"ed and sipped our tea. 

A peaceful protest of my heart and my mind. 

Walk away now before words get unkind.

No need for fighting in a formal manner.

Let's leave shit unsaid, my mind unfed.

A silent suffering because it's left unknown.

And I'll never know your tone.

Or your ponderings, the mind wanderings, thoughts between your heart and your dick. 

I could have asked. 

But answers give relief and I'm in the business of grief.

(More suffering, more recovery, more self realization in dark moments.)

Yes, that is my lovers quarrel

Will you be my next referral?

She's cool, but weird.

Everything you desire but fear. 

It could end without the strife. 

With out digging into past lives.

But the drama it calls to you.

It whispers to you from your wine.

Say something stupid, petty bullshit about Cupid and how Valentine's Day isn't your thing......

You know the inevitable sting.

You wake up to the ring. 

Of words you should have said. 

About that other girl in your bed.

But you didn't and you won't drown in that mote.

This pretty princess will sit high in her castle.

It's safer here and there's cold beer. 

Beer you never would have bought cause you're cheap. 

So I won't be taking the leap, but at least I'll have cold beer.

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Jerry's Oneness

I saw the boy in my cab driver, before the sun leathered his skin and the harsh realities of the world dirtied his shirt.

I saw the dead head in my cab driver, his dancing bear persona before the acid became more important that the riff of Jerry's guitar.

I saw the shame in my cab driver, the daily struggle to bathe and keep himself kept.

I saw the soul in my cab driver before I passed judgement on his pedigree. 

I saw the light in my cab driver because he chose to get up this morning, coffee in hand to keep himself going.

I don't know his story, I don't need to. 

We are not separate.

I am that cab driver and so are you.

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My daddy didn't raise no fool.


Not cool, no chill. 

I won't swallow the pill. 

Of acceptance.

In society.

No eyes on me. 

To fit a mold.

I'm told

To be bold.

To be pretty. 

Miss little Diddy.

Well that's a pity.

My daddy didn't raise no fool.

It's going to take more than a rule

Perhaps a duel, 

more than a couple of souls 

To capture my heart 

Cause I ain't no tart

But I like cake, the occasional steak

The glucose feeds my cells so I can ring the bell, blow the whistle on the bad guys.

The elixir of life is my calling. 

To fuel the falling of the dark night. 

The divine light, that's my fight. 

For the good of man kind

For the underdogs and the tribes that had their vibes stripped...ripped and left non equipped to be fruitless and suitless of their defenses. 


Of their morals, leading to quarrels of right and wrong.

I'm here to set this straight

To perpetuate 


So shine bright, bring the light, fight the good fight, for love, inside and out. 

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How We Have Ruined The True Definition Of Love By Having Too Many Expectations

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I’ve been hearing a lot about ‘almost love’. The ‘almost perfect’, ‘almost in a relationship’, ‘almost what I want’, ‘the tip of the tongue’ kind of love.

People say, “if he/she had this quality they would be the one”. Wow, that seems like a lot of pressure, doesn’t it?

When did checking off boxes becomes the key to lasting love? 

I can’t help but think that that creates a relationship that is doomed to be encapsulated by fear and insecurities.

The idea of living up to this perfect expectation of a partner seems daunting. No wonder I have brilliant, talented, did I mention beautiful friends, who are single.

Who can take the stress of work, school, family and on top of that; a love that is being questioned? And why are are expected to be a best friend, a soul mate, a lover, a mother, an entertainer, a chef, a provider, and a maid?

Who the fuck can be all that? I certainly can’t and I don’t want to be. 

Why are we so afraid to settle? Well, because settling is failure. Settling is throwing in the towel on our aspirations, our goals, the ideal picturesque all American family. No wonder we are a society driven to excess.

The pressure of life is squeezing us so tightly, no wonder alcohol and drugs are the cultural norm. We have steam to blow off and if we didn’t release it, we’d probably explode.

Are we really wired to be it all? Is there enough time in the day/week/month to even attempt it?

No. That’s what causes disease. Stress, it’s the number one cause. We need less commitment, less things on our to do list.

Love shouldn’t be a checklist, it should be felt deep within the heart, soul, mind, so deep you can feel it when you breathe. 

Love is not a connect the dots type of thing, it just is. No questions. It’s unsaid. Fuck the bullshit ideal that some article is telling you to do.

Let your heart and intuition guide you. If it’s a maybe, it’s a no. If someone is questioning you, walk away because you are someone else’s absolute ‘yes‘.

(Published February 22, 2017 by Thought Catalog)

My forever afterthought. {A modern day love story}


He smiled and said I'll support you on your path....

Instagtam, Twitter, Snapchat, whatever form of narcissism you choose; I'll be there for you. 

Taking your pics so you don't have to use the bathroom mirror, liking your selfies, wining and dining you at restaurants you can't afford, just for the insta. 

I will be your 21st century manbot 

And I, the h to your THOT

You will be my forever afterthought. {A modern day love story}

I want the real you; Unfiltered.

I can feel your skin slithering beneath your shirt.

Your discomfort is concerning 

And the verbiage is the opposite of alluring 

I spot you in the distance and realize it's a mistake 

You shorter than I imagined.

I take note to forgive myself later

For swift judgement of my hater

The defenses I put up to protect my hearts disrupt.

Who am I to X-ray your being from your skin layer?

Because I'm programmed 

Alexa, que death cab, I'm going to need to cry after this. 

But my initial gut is usually right

Cause I read souls

I see all the holes

The conversation lacks 

Any sort of tact

Nothing is pre-thought

Feels store bought.

Pre-packaged love, it's the new age way to do it 

Swipe, bang, gone 

It all feels so wrong 

But it's somebodies right 

Cause they don't have time to fight 

For the real thing 

The damn you make my heart ring 

Are you the lazy kind of lover?

The guy who puts himself above her

This girl ain't got time for maybes

I don't want millennial rabies

The rampant disease of entitlement

Lack of love syndrome because you can't think over your phone. 

How can you feel when you hide your Achilles heel?

From the world. Vulnerability can right and unite us.

Brooding behind the closed doors of our minds will not be kind.

To ourselfie

The image reflected or the alt fact of what you want people to see.

Don't abide to what society tells us is ok.

Not expressing.

Holding back

Fitting a mold.

So you can grow old and die a filtered illusion. 

Because the truth is wildly unpopular. 

No it doesn't take Doplar

To predict the weather in your heart.

It takes a start.

The intention.

Let's take down the facade and stop running from our god. 

Not the god of our grandmothers, but the internal compass of our guts. 

We know what's right, lets continue the fight. Of love. Within and without. 

Don't doubt. 

How do you preach love when you don't pause before you swipe right. 

How do you preach acceptance when you don't accept yourself. 

Enough with the instant.

We need to unravel the dopamine center to taper down the drama drip we need to feel anything at all. 

Chasing the highs fuels the fear of not having it all. 

Let's not feed fear: let's get clear.

I want the real you, unfiltered

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This is Being 26.


5 day-old wine stains my bottom sheet.
I’ll do the laundry tomorrow I think to myself. 
Amazon boxes, a water filter missing the proper appendages to function
and bowls once inundated with #glutenfree cereal lay strewn around my room
Sundays soul cycle garb, sweaty & untouched in a complimentary plastic bag
A millennial museum.
My wireless printer too smart for my old computer sits incompatible, adjacent to pictures that will never be hung
Crystals to clear my Aura that have just stopped working their magic on my windowsill.
So much potential lies within this room yet a film of apathy lingers
I got up today I rejoice
Now what.
Who wants to hire me?
This is 26.
Who needs money when you have passion!
My rent gives me the side smile.
Who’s hungry?!
Sweet green for all! 
My father’s credit card still attached to the app. 
For my health I tell myself. 
Greens with a side of parental guilt, my favorite meal.
I finally hung that mirror last week, success.
It came 3 inches from concussing me in my sleep last night. 
This is 26.
A text: Renew your Obamacare. Xoxo Dad
I’ll adult later. 
A banner: Shannon from Hinge likes my story.
Did I accidentally click the interested in females button?!
No, it’s Shannon the boy. 
He’s a Trump supporter, next.
This is 26.
So and so successful person was broke and sleeping on his friends couch at 27, so that gives me approx 5 months to be somebody.
But I’m all Kings of Leon I could “use somebody”
That’s the easy way out.
If I wanted my Mrs. I would have pursued that in college.
I choose the teacher.
Cause I love to learn.
The hard way. 
This is 26. 
My banks fraud department called me yesterday.
Was I trying to purchase something at the BIG & TALL store?
No, not lately.
I’m on a budget.
This is 26.
I have two job interviews this week.
“To supplement my income”
Cause passion doesn’t pay the bills…yet.
Started from the bottom, now we here. 
Wish me luck, this time I’ll give a fuck.

(Published December 16, 2016 by Thought Catalog)

The Day I Witnessed Love beneath the clouds of the Florida-Georgia Line.

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I was on a plane once—three days after Thanksgiving.

I sat beside a classmate.

She was journaling about a lover. A lover I knew.

“I am utterly in love with {insert name here}.”

As she transcribed his name, adrenaline ran through my body.

He was my pen pal. My friend from across the room, a classmate with an aptitude for deep Facebook chats.

He was witty, odd—smart and Larry David funny. His brain was what entrenched her heart.

She was beautiful.

Her looks would always surpass his.

My eyes wandered to her paper, where she deposited her deepest secrets.

Insight no one was ever meant to have.

I was friends with the boy bound in her leather notebook.

I wanted to tell him about her unrequited love. I could have been the key to their algorithm.

But who was I to mess with destiny?

She moved on, he’s perpetually single.

But in that moment, beneath the clouds of the Florida Georgia line, love was rampant in the pages of a college student’s spiral.

And I held her secret as he held her heart.

Perfectly Unplanned


It doesn't make me sad to think about you anymore

I find myself cracking a smile these days 

It took me so long to realize that we would never be

It's a blessing to sit in that place

If I had moved on I wouldn't have felt the pain

And I grew so much in that pain

That hurt was a seed that blossomed into something so beautiful 

It tore me open 

Reawakened outlets of expression 

That I hid for so long

You begin to stop caring you're alone for so long

No one to judge any of your actions but yourself

There is no reporting, no contorting my image for anyone 

It's sad how a relationship can filter your quirks 

If you aren't yourself 100% in a relationship you are doomed to


But how was I to be myself in union when I had never practiced being anyone but a facade

"I don't hold you to this certain standard so why do you hold me to one?"

As the last word rolled off your tongue I knew it was over

If you didn't hold me to a higher plane, what the fuck were we doing.

Maybe you wanted me to stay small so you could stay trivial 

I asked a lot of you because I saw so much good in you 

But you took me for granted and that ate at me

I became vacant to my true being 

A Chameleon of whomever surrounded me

Morphing my axiom attempting to keep you happy 

But thank you for that

Thank you for leaving 

I would have never done it

Without that July night I don't want to know where I'd be 

Stagnant, stuck, still giving so many fucks

About my image, my job, my 5 year fucking plan

It was a break up with you and my former complacency 

Ha, who needs that when there is happiness to be had 

Happiness beyond a starter home & pod children.

There is uninhibited laughter to be conjured

Ugly cries to be had 

And a life to be lived without someone worrying about what others think of them 

Designer pups are in my future but there is no need to rush the rest of our lives

I no longer subscribe to a reward system that fuels a facade but not a true feeling

Why must I succumb to a timeline of coming of age.

I better hurry up. Why? To die sooner? 

No thanks. I'll keep this soul fresh. 

What if I never have a plan?

What if the plan is no plan?

No one grew being comfortable.

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Stay Sober They Said.


Stay sober they said; enlightenment will follow

But first you must feel hollow

An entity of resentment To this universe they talk of

Who is the ruler?

You are.

Your intentions. Your actions. Your reactions.

 But why are you good some days and make me hurt so deeply others?

The path is jagged and rocky, some days I spill; fuck everyday I spill.

But I won't take the pill.

Deception to thyself is not worth inception. 

I promise.

I won't choose the path of least resistance.

Cause something tells me the steepest hills have the prettiest views

But it's a nothing in particular kind of feeling

Cause sometimes the mind just is

A mind that will fuck you if you let it

My mind is a fuck boy

And I'm a fuck girl for listening to it

For believing myself for a second that I wasn't enough

But I am

And so are you.

Filter the crazy 

The pondering that makes you hazy

Get it out.

Paint it off.

Script is away.

Bake it into a pie.

Write the letter you never send 

I promise it will mend

{The hurt, the guilt, the anger you carry so deeply

doesn't have to deplete you}

Let it go, just let it flow.

Out. Off. Away.....

Finally my feelings at bay.

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