Category: ‘writing’

ode of despondency

August 6, 2014 Posted by the writer

ode of despondency

this novelty
of love
knocked
on
my door. (more…)

someone has youtube

August 2, 2014 Posted by the writer

After being shitty over my second “husband” deleting all of my videos during another childish tantrum, I decided to fire youtube up again today.

Uh oh.

My first project from my video poetry page. Me reading The Summer That Burned Me over Mind One.

That one hurt, blog tribe. Never trust a pair of violet eyes. (more…)

the summer that burned me

August 1, 2014 Posted by the writer

the summer that burned me

hibernating. to protect from outside
weather. a fast season of summer came
with sandy gold locks and violet blue eyes.
convincing me temperatures stay the same.
winter petals clenched. drooping to the floor. (more…)

mandatory retreat

July 30, 2014 Posted by the writer

mandatory retreat

You show up unannounced again, three days after I say I can’t see you anymore and six weeks after we meet. I would have told you not to come. But you caught me off guard, like the day I first saw you.

There are things that I do and things that I have done that you will never know. It’s why you can’t keep coming here. It’s why I never should have agreed to see you twice.

You think things about me that are not true. I order my fourth drink during our third dinner together and you say, “Man, I can’t drink like that, especially not on a weeknight.” (more…)

a venerated vehicle

July 27, 2014 Posted by the writer

a venerated vehicle

between. this. (k)new
combination of reality.
someone hurt him.
this white trash baby
mamma drama. loose
pussy suburb trick.
i saw it in his face. not her.
to real women; she’s nothing.
sometimes i practice not
telling truth to what’s wounded.
my throat was slit before –
and i came back in this way
i never talk about with anyone.
but i saw him, and how he
moves. his hands create. quickly.
and he says little and i am
running again. after broken limb
past. he escaped from a lie
close to how i was once executed.
my words were abused previously.
my hips widen and thighs flex
in a tight lipped consciousness.
i bow into understanding.
back stretch agreement.
he never sees the ropes of my
locks thrashing side to side and
in circles. a keyless entry.
every time i burn down what
i could never save. i can’t help
wondering if one beat will
walk the same pace. true.

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    FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.
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