When you're traveling from Montgomery, Alabama to Fort Lauderdale, FL, via Greyhound, you run into a lot of strange and a lot of interesting people. On this damn near day long trip, I've heard three life stories. One I actually care about, another I kinda could care less about, and the third was just pointless. Point is, the world is made up of so many lost souls, and you barely realize it because you are caught up in yourself and your own crazy world of emotions and misfits.
A man who had two left feet literally, falling because he tripped over the doormat of the station. Three people had to help him out, and he was embarrassed; you could tell by the flush of red all over his face. He later on smoked about five cigarettes. Two at each of the first two stops and one at the last one.
A lady with one arm struggled to hold her coffee and pull her luggage to her terminal. She refused help from anyone who offered, bitterly.
And R. Shawn. A man I met on the bus, who told me he had abandoned everything and everyone back home to completely start over from scratch. He had about $30 in his pocket and buttload of clothes. He didn't want anything to do with anyone back home, or in his family. He had had enough, so he just hopped on the bus and was on his way. As we both discussed any plans he might have had, which he didn't, we both grew more and more worried about his situation. Where was he going to sleep? What was he going to eat? What was the next step for him? -sniffle- I'm getting sick. It was RIDICULOUSLY cold on the bus and bus driver refused to put on the heat. Douchebag. Anyways, I offered R as much advice as I possible could, but I had no idea what to do or what I could do to help him. I myself only had $3 on me. I let him charge his cell phone on my laptop and tried my best to talk to him and calm him down. I ended up worrying about him all night. I pray for him, and I hope he's okay. The thought of him sleeping on a bench or something kills me.
He's all alone. Just like I thought I was, but here I am, with my two cousins in Florida, surrounded by palm trees and white buildings and a view of Hollywood, FL. Who am I to bitch and moan and be an alcoholic? This young man, as sweet as he was, found himself in a no way out situation and had to leave. He is alone.
These people changed my life.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
halloween.
Halloween
there's a hundred and one secrets that I keep tangled inside me; things like 102607 one of the best days of my life... the way I was held, the way we argued- the reason why I don't live with my father, biological father, or mom- see no one knows me inside and out, not even my own brother. and as unfortunate as it is the only person who does know me entirely is only because I seem to be the identical generation-x version of her. this is NOT on purpose. secrets always come to light, I suppose but I don't think im ready for that. so until then, I'm sweeping up these skeletons that attempted to topple out when I opened my closet door- and shoving them back where they were dislodged from. I want to spare myself life-ache in the end.
"now it's hardly simple, it's jst simply hard... I find myself not being myself to avoid all the confrontation." -so simple; alicia keys.
who am I?
there's a hundred and one secrets that I keep tangled inside me; things like 102607 one of the best days of my life... the way I was held, the way we argued- the reason why I don't live with my father, biological father, or mom- see no one knows me inside and out, not even my own brother. and as unfortunate as it is the only person who does know me entirely is only because I seem to be the identical generation-x version of her. this is NOT on purpose. secrets always come to light, I suppose but I don't think im ready for that. so until then, I'm sweeping up these skeletons that attempted to topple out when I opened my closet door- and shoving them back where they were dislodged from. I want to spare myself life-ache in the end.
"now it's hardly simple, it's jst simply hard... I find myself not being myself to avoid all the confrontation." -so simple; alicia keys.
who am I?
Monday, October 19, 2009
8am.
in the car, driving back to birmingham, alabama from montgomery. montgomery looks like catskill, ny. it was okay for the most part, excluding the account mentioned in my previous blog. listening to this track that I hear over and over in practice because it's playing in my scene (for the fashion show).
let's NOT talk about the fashion right now tho. that'll jst fck up my mood. the sun is hitting the car in an angle that allows it to hit my cheek and warm it up on this extremely cold day. it feels great. doing 90 on whatever highway this is, watching the trees and exit signs whizz by gives me this feeling... it allows me to pretend I'm home if only for a moment.. driving from white plains to danbury.. or white plains to new rochelle.. I just want to go home.
this weekend I smoked and the amount of things I've done that are all in all productive add up to 0. and I like it like that. not quite a "vacation" but a "getaway" none the less.
now I'm on my return to Miles.. wait, lemme not capitalize- miles college, a school smack dab in the middle of the hood. no one wants to walk off campus after 930 pm unless it's from Pearson Hall to their dorm or to "the square", an area on the yard with benches in the shape of a square. students- and even non-students- like to sit out there all hours of the night joking on eachother, other people, smoking, anything. it all goes down "in the square". the square lost it's luster after the second week of school. I walk past it, waving at the kids that sit there all day. I have better things to do.
the education and all around living situation of the school isn't worth the cost. there's no internet in the dorm rooms. bass hall has internet but it's very slow and goes out constantly. the learning resource center has internet as well, but it's even slower, taking years just to get to google. there are very few computer's available in the LRC, and the fact that you have to take your hat off takes away whatever desire you have to go in there anyway. which isn't much to begin with.
the classes are sloooow. so slow that I can fall asleep and miss nothing. I can NOT go and miss nothing. so I don't go. and pass. I'm on my way to transferring outta here. promise.
let's NOT talk about the fashion right now tho. that'll jst fck up my mood. the sun is hitting the car in an angle that allows it to hit my cheek and warm it up on this extremely cold day. it feels great. doing 90 on whatever highway this is, watching the trees and exit signs whizz by gives me this feeling... it allows me to pretend I'm home if only for a moment.. driving from white plains to danbury.. or white plains to new rochelle.. I just want to go home.
this weekend I smoked and the amount of things I've done that are all in all productive add up to 0. and I like it like that. not quite a "vacation" but a "getaway" none the less.
now I'm on my return to Miles.. wait, lemme not capitalize- miles college, a school smack dab in the middle of the hood. no one wants to walk off campus after 930 pm unless it's from Pearson Hall to their dorm or to "the square", an area on the yard with benches in the shape of a square. students- and even non-students- like to sit out there all hours of the night joking on eachother, other people, smoking, anything. it all goes down "in the square". the square lost it's luster after the second week of school. I walk past it, waving at the kids that sit there all day. I have better things to do.
the education and all around living situation of the school isn't worth the cost. there's no internet in the dorm rooms. bass hall has internet but it's very slow and goes out constantly. the learning resource center has internet as well, but it's even slower, taking years just to get to google. there are very few computer's available in the LRC, and the fact that you have to take your hat off takes away whatever desire you have to go in there anyway. which isn't much to begin with.
the classes are sloooow. so slow that I can fall asleep and miss nothing. I can NOT go and miss nothing. so I don't go. and pass. I'm on my way to transferring outta here. promise.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
montgomery.
riding through montgomery, alabama texting exes & wishin I was sexin, aooow. just playing. I feel like this was a terrible weekend to come down here. there was too much going on, my homegirl was doing too much.
it began with me chillin in bass (a residence hall in the beautiful campus of miles college [sarcasm] residing smack dab in the middle of some projects in fairfield, alabama) with my homegirl who came down here frm not-to-far-from-me, new york. she told me a friend of mine frm campus was tryna get ahold of me. she passed me her phone and told me to say hello.
"hello?"
"you're going home with me this wknd, bitch. go pack. you got fifteen minutes."
so I go back to the room and pack my shit. now she TOLD me to come with her to her house in montgomery. so I go.
we go to her uncle's house, meet up with her "bae", smoke, and then leave. we chill for a while, meet up with another friend, smoke, chill. & then she tells me she's gonnor stay with "Klint?"
well, I don't fckin know "Klint", so of course I'm gonna go with her. Bad fucking idea.
I'm sittin in this bitch's living room while my homie and her are fckin in the back. the movie they got me watching starts skipping and playing the same part over and over and over. I can't stop it, pause it, reverse it, fast forward it, nothing. so I start punching it. frustrated, I text my homegirl to "come fix this fckin tv." her bitch skitters out still pulling her shirt over her head and asks me what I wanna watch. I swore I told her "transformers 2" but end up watching "transporter 3". deaf scallywag.
the movie doesn't have enough fighting scenes. every dialogue is drowned out with loud moans from the back. my phone is dying and the charger doesn't work so I'm frustrated. I've been sitting on this couch for two fckin hours. bitch better come on.
when my homie comes out the room, I wanna kick her ass.
the next night.
we smoke. but I'm starting to feel more and more like this was the most wrong wknd to come EVER. we're informed of a smoking party where you bring an L & it's matched up. sounds heavenly to me. I'm planning on going back on my non-smoking mission when I return to campus; this is a "vacation". however, none of us have money, so the party is out. and walah, my homie has to go get cuddy again. (if I sound jealous, it could be because I am a tiny tiny teeny bit. believe me, after seeing the bitch, I am NOT that jealous.) she doesn't kno what to do with me again, so she has her "bae" babysit me. me & him end up going to the smoke party which is an all gay male event. they dance, I watch (I'm the most masculine person in the room) and we leave. no bud.
we drive around a little to kill time & then go back to get my homegirl. I told her to sanitize her fckin hands before she touches me. no dap, nigga.
day three, I'm awakened by my homegirl's
I'm evil as fck in the morning. we get dressed, go to church, etc. not too bad. then she's informed of some sort of "family" meeting. guess what... not family? can't go. once again.. I need to be babysat. wonder what they're gonna do with me tonite!
I don't mean to sound like I'm immature, bitchy, whiney, whatever. I'm aware I'm jst straight up complaining. but fck it. I don't care about your opinion to be quite frank. lol. seriously. avoi...
btw; remind you tell you abt miles. LORD do I have to tell you about this school.
it began with me chillin in bass (a residence hall in the beautiful campus of miles college [sarcasm] residing smack dab in the middle of some projects in fairfield, alabama) with my homegirl who came down here frm not-to-far-from-me, new york. she told me a friend of mine frm campus was tryna get ahold of me. she passed me her phone and told me to say hello.
"hello?"
"you're going home with me this wknd, bitch. go pack. you got fifteen minutes."
so I go back to the room and pack my shit. now she TOLD me to come with her to her house in montgomery. so I go.
we go to her uncle's house, meet up with her "bae", smoke, and then leave. we chill for a while, meet up with another friend, smoke, chill. & then she tells me she's gonnor stay with "Klint?"
well, I don't fckin know "Klint", so of course I'm gonna go with her. Bad fucking idea.
I'm sittin in this bitch's living room while my homie and her are fckin in the back. the movie they got me watching starts skipping and playing the same part over and over and over. I can't stop it, pause it, reverse it, fast forward it, nothing. so I start punching it. frustrated, I text my homegirl to "come fix this fckin tv." her bitch skitters out still pulling her shirt over her head and asks me what I wanna watch. I swore I told her "transformers 2" but end up watching "transporter 3". deaf scallywag.
the movie doesn't have enough fighting scenes. every dialogue is drowned out with loud moans from the back. my phone is dying and the charger doesn't work so I'm frustrated. I've been sitting on this couch for two fckin hours. bitch better come on.
when my homie comes out the room, I wanna kick her ass.
the next night.
we smoke. but I'm starting to feel more and more like this was the most wrong wknd to come EVER. we're informed of a smoking party where you bring an L & it's matched up. sounds heavenly to me. I'm planning on going back on my non-smoking mission when I return to campus; this is a "vacation". however, none of us have money, so the party is out. and walah, my homie has to go get cuddy again. (if I sound jealous, it could be because I am a tiny tiny teeny bit. believe me, after seeing the bitch, I am NOT that jealous.) she doesn't kno what to do with me again, so she has her "bae" babysit me. me & him end up going to the smoke party which is an all gay male event. they dance, I watch (I'm the most masculine person in the room) and we leave. no bud.
we drive around a little to kill time & then go back to get my homegirl. I told her to sanitize her fckin hands before she touches me. no dap, nigga.
day three, I'm awakened by my homegirl's
I'm evil as fck in the morning. we get dressed, go to church, etc. not too bad. then she's informed of some sort of "family" meeting. guess what... not family? can't go. once again.. I need to be babysat. wonder what they're gonna do with me tonite!
I don't mean to sound like I'm immature, bitchy, whiney, whatever. I'm aware I'm jst straight up complaining. but fck it. I don't care about your opinion to be quite frank. lol. seriously. avoi...
btw; remind you tell you abt miles. LORD do I have to tell you about this school.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Going
Real Chance of Love, Daisy of Love, Rock of Love, Whatever of Love are all stupid. I don't understand why I find myself on the couch, glued to VH1, watching all of this bullshit. Well, I admit, I watch Real Chance of Love because Risky is sexy as hell. I followed her into Charm School and watch her beautiful transformation, along with Bay Bay Bay's bigheaded ass. Everything else is bullshit. Bullshit that keeps my eyes glued and ready sit in the exact same spot, same time next week. What is it about bullshit fake drama that keeps people stuck? Sure there are people out there that refuse to watch bullshit TV and actually keep good on it. But what about the people like me, that resent the fact that this shit is on but still find ourselves watching it, sometimes even turning to the channel 5 mins early for the recap of last weeks even though we've seen last weeks? Actually, that's just sad. I only do that when I'm bored. (Or for the sake of my rep, NEVER. lol) I really wonder this shit.
Anyways, I didn't mean for this blog to ramble about bullshit television. I'm feeling some type of way about moving to Alabama. I hate relocating. I hate new shit. I hate change until it's already taken place and is no longer change- so I guess that just means I hate change. I don't like new situations. As a twenty-one year old, I know I'm too old for this shit, but I can't help it. I'm not excited to be away from my hometown, my homeSTATE, my best friends, my pseudofamily; I don't want to leave. I'm not excited to be in a new state in the South surrounded by people I don't know as well as people I'm not used to. The only thing I'm really excited about to be quite honest is the groupies and getting my education- also immature, but I mean, it's me, Spit. What do you expect?
I guess I could say I'm nervous and full of anxiety. What about my room? Do I have a ride from the airport? Are they going to do my financial aid right? etc, etc. I want to avoid drama as much as possible but I know it's going to follow me.. drama is there everywhere you go.
I'm distracted, I'll write more later.
Anyways, I didn't mean for this blog to ramble about bullshit television. I'm feeling some type of way about moving to Alabama. I hate relocating. I hate new shit. I hate change until it's already taken place and is no longer change- so I guess that just means I hate change. I don't like new situations. As a twenty-one year old, I know I'm too old for this shit, but I can't help it. I'm not excited to be away from my hometown, my homeSTATE, my best friends, my pseudofamily; I don't want to leave. I'm not excited to be in a new state in the South surrounded by people I don't know as well as people I'm not used to. The only thing I'm really excited about to be quite honest is the groupies and getting my education- also immature, but I mean, it's me, Spit. What do you expect?
I guess I could say I'm nervous and full of anxiety. What about my room? Do I have a ride from the airport? Are they going to do my financial aid right? etc, etc. I want to avoid drama as much as possible but I know it's going to follow me.. drama is there everywhere you go.
I'm distracted, I'll write more later.
Friday, July 17, 2009
2.5
Okay, so is it bad that I have two in one day? Is it ursty? I don't know, I just... I really want to write a poem but I have the worst writer's block ever..
I'm anxious, I have the worst anxiety. It kills me sometimes. My mind is just running.. It's like a bad game of kickball. Just running and running and running and running. Like can someone catch an OUT!? Jesus!
I'm so frustrated. I'm trying not to think of her because she's doing a damn good job not thinking about me. I don't know, yo.
Time for Spitty to stop being a pussy.
I'm anxious, I have the worst anxiety. It kills me sometimes. My mind is just running.. It's like a bad game of kickball. Just running and running and running and running. Like can someone catch an OUT!? Jesus!
I'm so frustrated. I'm trying not to think of her because she's doing a damn good job not thinking about me. I don't know, yo.
Time for Spitty to stop being a pussy.
The Second One
So, I'm slightly aggravated with life to begin with because I didn't get my tattoo today... but that's a minor reason for my aggravation.. Actually, to be honest, it's so minor a reason it's not worth mentioning. So scratch that.
Aggravation might as well be my mood for life. I live through aggravation, I act through it, I breathe through it. I'm happy rarely, and when I AM happy, I'm usually slightly aggravated simultaneously. Spitt needs a sanctuary. A corner where she can sit indian style and meditate.
Today I woke up at around 9AM. I didn't do this by choice. The voice that woke me up is a voice that has the power to pierce through sleep and make it impossible to fall back into sleep. It never fails to wake me up, although it does so accidentally.
And that's how my day started.
With 7 hours of sleep, I still possessed the ability to go about my day with livelihood-- sike. I sat on my ass on the couch and watched stupid movies until I got up to shower. I was amped as I stepped in singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'-- a state I have never visited by the way-- and scrubbed myself red clean. I was gonna finally get my third tattoo. And when I got out the shower I rushed into my room and threw on a beater and tight skinnies-- I was femmed out today, but I didn't give a FCK-- I was getting my GOTdamn tattoo.
When my homie and his friend came through, I was even more amped. I stared at the clock the whole time they played the Red Faction demo on PS3, and rushed the shit out of them as they made last minute bathroom runs. Then we were finally out the door. I whipped to the tat shop-- I was mad happy this dude let me push his Saturn-- and when I got there I was prepared to feel the therapy-- the needle tickling my arm over and over again.
Only to be shut down.
The tattoo guy was on vacation.
Like WHAT THE FCK!? I needed that therapy. I was fiending for it. It's exactly what I need to get my mind off the hoes--
yes, hoes--
that have been plaguing them recently. From her that calls herself after a doll, to her with problems with her ex, to her with a girlfriend, to her who is underage. Them. To the one that fronted like she was a homie, when she was really just an ursty homo. Shooting me in the back the chance she got because she thought I wanted her ex-girlfriend. Ace knows who I'm talking about... well, she knows the ex-girlfriend at least, we chilled with her for the minute that we walked about skyscrapers looking absolutely short and gay. I don't want homie's ex, I just think she's a cool person.. Sure I looked at her ass a couple times.. [about twice] but that doesn't mean I want you... I look at mad people's ass and then I regret it sometimes. Not saying I regret looking at hers... It just didn't mean anything. Simple. So she can get in her feelings and try to go after the ones I bagged and aspire to bag, like, it's whatever. I know what's real and homegirl is not. And that my friends, is a lesson learned.
But, we were talking about the tattoo.
I didn't get it. We ended up going to the Chinese spot next door where I didn't order anything and then to Target where I bought my homeboy lover a video game. You guessed, Red Faction. We've been playing the demo for the past month and a half.
His mom walks about like a sad zombie. I have no words. Well, Ace, you happy? I finally blogged again. I don't know if I feel better yet, but I hope this puts me on the path...
Then again, as a GAG, I'm the shit. Wanna know about GAG? You can't. I decided it's fine with two people. I love my fellow GAG, no homo. Or maybe there is some homo in there. *wink. Nah but, chick is the realest I've met so far. And I'm honored to be alongside her in this shindig we call Gamma Alpha Gamma.
I'm out until I get even more pissed off.
Or until I feel like talking about hoes again.
Which may be soon.
Remember?
Aggravated or slightly Aggravated.
Aggravation might as well be my mood for life. I live through aggravation, I act through it, I breathe through it. I'm happy rarely, and when I AM happy, I'm usually slightly aggravated simultaneously. Spitt needs a sanctuary. A corner where she can sit indian style and meditate.
Today I woke up at around 9AM. I didn't do this by choice. The voice that woke me up is a voice that has the power to pierce through sleep and make it impossible to fall back into sleep. It never fails to wake me up, although it does so accidentally.
And that's how my day started.
With 7 hours of sleep, I still possessed the ability to go about my day with livelihood-- sike. I sat on my ass on the couch and watched stupid movies until I got up to shower. I was amped as I stepped in singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'-- a state I have never visited by the way-- and scrubbed myself red clean. I was gonna finally get my third tattoo. And when I got out the shower I rushed into my room and threw on a beater and tight skinnies-- I was femmed out today, but I didn't give a FCK-- I was getting my GOTdamn tattoo.
When my homie and his friend came through, I was even more amped. I stared at the clock the whole time they played the Red Faction demo on PS3, and rushed the shit out of them as they made last minute bathroom runs. Then we were finally out the door. I whipped to the tat shop-- I was mad happy this dude let me push his Saturn-- and when I got there I was prepared to feel the therapy-- the needle tickling my arm over and over again.
Only to be shut down.
The tattoo guy was on vacation.
Like WHAT THE FCK!? I needed that therapy. I was fiending for it. It's exactly what I need to get my mind off the hoes--
yes, hoes--
that have been plaguing them recently. From her that calls herself after a doll, to her with problems with her ex, to her with a girlfriend, to her who is underage. Them. To the one that fronted like she was a homie, when she was really just an ursty homo. Shooting me in the back the chance she got because she thought I wanted her ex-girlfriend. Ace knows who I'm talking about... well, she knows the ex-girlfriend at least, we chilled with her for the minute that we walked about skyscrapers looking absolutely short and gay. I don't want homie's ex, I just think she's a cool person.. Sure I looked at her ass a couple times.. [about twice] but that doesn't mean I want you... I look at mad people's ass and then I regret it sometimes. Not saying I regret looking at hers... It just didn't mean anything. Simple. So she can get in her feelings and try to go after the ones I bagged and aspire to bag, like, it's whatever. I know what's real and homegirl is not. And that my friends, is a lesson learned.
But, we were talking about the tattoo.
I didn't get it. We ended up going to the Chinese spot next door where I didn't order anything and then to Target where I bought my homeboy lover a video game. You guessed, Red Faction. We've been playing the demo for the past month and a half.
His mom walks about like a sad zombie. I have no words. Well, Ace, you happy? I finally blogged again. I don't know if I feel better yet, but I hope this puts me on the path...
Then again, as a GAG, I'm the shit. Wanna know about GAG? You can't. I decided it's fine with two people. I love my fellow GAG, no homo. Or maybe there is some homo in there. *wink. Nah but, chick is the realest I've met so far. And I'm honored to be alongside her in this shindig we call Gamma Alpha Gamma.
I'm out until I get even more pissed off.
Or until I feel like talking about hoes again.
Which may be soon.
Remember?
Aggravated or slightly Aggravated.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The First One
Today was pointless. I just wanna start this shit out like that. Just so we're on the same page.
Today was pointless. Nothing got done, nothing was accomplished, I'm still on the couch, I probably successfully got fatter. I didn't play the Sims like I planned to, didn't work on my novel like I planned [the fuckin writer's block is SO ugly] and I don't know... I didn't do the dishes. Just a lot of bullshit happened which made me wish like today shouldn't have happened. Hopefully I have work tomorrow so I don't feel like this again. Because then, I'd feel like I was depressed or something. Days shouldn't be 'pointless'... especially when you're twentyone. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. Maybe I should stop...
I'm not.
I really missed my Dad today.. The fake one. The one I thought was my father for about 20 years, until I found out he wasn't. My best friend... well, ex best friend. Because our communication fried and then completely died out when I was 18. Shit happens, I guess, but it sucks that it happened to me. And I need to get over myself but self loathing and feeling sorry for myself is kind of therapeutic in a sort of sick, self-centered kind of way so I'm probably gonna be doing this shit for another couple of years.. Ahhh, this isn't live journal.. so perhaps I shouldn't treat it like it is.. but fuck it. I created this shit so I'm gonna type whatever the fuck I want to in it.
I'm gonna type a poem and then dip.
beatin down on my heart
like rain in a storm
your smile all the while
promising serenity and warmth
teases me; makes me yearn
for more and more of you
like a junkie to the needle
i'm more than addicted to you
a & e but my i is only on u
happy kisses to your cheek
like strangers lost
our lips meet & greet
only for my legs to quiver
like two naked virgins getting it on
down by the river-
i live to embrace you
amaze you
and grace you
and weed would be so much better
if it were laced with you...
cuz with you alone
one toke and i'm gone
and the high that results
is sooooo fucking strong...
and that's all I got.
Today was pointless. Nothing got done, nothing was accomplished, I'm still on the couch, I probably successfully got fatter. I didn't play the Sims like I planned to, didn't work on my novel like I planned [the fuckin writer's block is SO ugly] and I don't know... I didn't do the dishes. Just a lot of bullshit happened which made me wish like today shouldn't have happened. Hopefully I have work tomorrow so I don't feel like this again. Because then, I'd feel like I was depressed or something. Days shouldn't be 'pointless'... especially when you're twentyone. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. Maybe I should stop...
I'm not.
I really missed my Dad today.. The fake one. The one I thought was my father for about 20 years, until I found out he wasn't. My best friend... well, ex best friend. Because our communication fried and then completely died out when I was 18. Shit happens, I guess, but it sucks that it happened to me. And I need to get over myself but self loathing and feeling sorry for myself is kind of therapeutic in a sort of sick, self-centered kind of way so I'm probably gonna be doing this shit for another couple of years.. Ahhh, this isn't live journal.. so perhaps I shouldn't treat it like it is.. but fuck it. I created this shit so I'm gonna type whatever the fuck I want to in it.
I'm gonna type a poem and then dip.
beatin down on my heart
like rain in a storm
your smile all the while
promising serenity and warmth
teases me; makes me yearn
for more and more of you
like a junkie to the needle
i'm more than addicted to you
a & e but my i is only on u
happy kisses to your cheek
like strangers lost
our lips meet & greet
only for my legs to quiver
like two naked virgins getting it on
down by the river-
i live to embrace you
amaze you
and grace you
and weed would be so much better
if it were laced with you...
cuz with you alone
one toke and i'm gone
and the high that results
is sooooo fucking strong...
and that's all I got.
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