I don’t feel like rhyming
I don’t even feel like writing
It’s really no different than hiding
underneath all these thoughts I am thinking.
I want to be outside
I want to live
during all this time that I am required to give
But to shed a little light
Atleast I have a home to call my own at night
I guess everything’s alright.
Survival of the most malleable
Suck it up and be adaptable.
Business is just so practical
and I am just so matter of factual.
Fuck it all.
Today, instead of going to work I stayed home and made a song.
In the darkest light, I will still see.
Ahem..
Coming to terms
Summing up the burns
Threading through the shambles of all that had unravelled
Weaving my head dress
Changing my address
Unveiling a vampress
Walking straight to business
An Intelligent temptress
Expressing good
Making sure it’s understood.
Viable.
Bringing intellect to the street and hood to the hills
I make bullshit distill.
I’ll take your methods and instill.
I am a woman
Here me moan.
I own up
Dress up
Drink up
Read up
Hold it down
Get down.
Don’t let me down
I’ll be done and out.
I know my mood
Please excuse me if I’m rude
Sometimes I’m all hyped up on attitude.
I’m not a prude
I’m not a slut
I think of men like food:
I like to taste it before I exclude it from my specific and selective diet.
If I know it’s bad for my health, I won’t even try it.
I am a tender, loving soul who’s been fucked with.
Think twice before you touch this.
Think again before you take advantage of my worth because I give my all but will vanish right as you count the last dime of my dynamic mind, small frame, sweet face, and divine behind
You will have become blind in sight searching to find me
I’ll probably be more interested in staring at the sea
Or even a god Damned tree
Because your advantage was me
Not of me
And I’m disadvantaged with A.D.D.
But that’s what works for me.
All done up, bring it at me.
There’s nothing I can’t be.
In the darkest light, I will still see.
My energy just gleams.
Even if it is all just a dream.
Spiritual advancement is not to be measured by one’s display of outward powers, but solely by the depth of his bliss in meditation.
—Yogananda
There’s something to be said about being alone-
For example, I never worry about a guy getting mad about texts he found in my phone or find myself wondering what he is doing when I know he isn’t at home. I don’t have someone paying attention to every way that I change, altering the rate that I may have grown. There is no microscope enlarging my behavior so that it may be blown out of proportion in an exhausting conversation consisting of harsh tones to ensure that the pain we feel is known. Time is only mine. I’ll make my dinner, read anything I want, drink what I want despite who likes it or not, wash my dishes, ponder every single one of my wishes, move at my own pace, and give two shits about having acne on my face. I’ll go to sleep by myself, assess my personal health, listen to the music I decide, apply essential oils, stretch out my stress while breathing away all of my mind’s thinking, and wake up to start the day before anyone has the chance to sway me into any additional dismay. There’s no one to let me down, my expectations are only of myself; there’s no one to get me down, my priorities are to maintain my health. If I’m mad, it’s my own problem; there’s no one to project my mood onto, no one to place instant blame on, and no one’s name circling in my brain analyzing every word he might say.
But then again, there’s something to be said about being alone: my progress is never known to another, there is no one looking forward to my arrival and departure, and no one to revive me when the last thing I care about is survival. The only depth to my accomplishments is within myself, the words I speak are intimately weak, and my relationships with men lack meaning. I am constantly screening for potential candidates, losing hope with every dinner date, fearing that my fate is to live a lifetime with no one by my side. It’s not that I truly want a relationship, but it’s in my biological design to seek a mate while I am chronologically inclined to do so. Butterflies subside after a few days, I settle in my patterns and waves, and forget how to put proper effort into caring for another- and there’s always the other 2 or 3 i’ve kept in my peripheral as long as it’s convenient for me. Prince charming is a myth that is probably harming more females than if adults were actually alarming young girls that most men actually only care about one thing, and that this world severely lacks any real purity.
I think I’m finally full grown, it couldn’t have happened if I wasn’t alone.
Me, Aliens, Butterflies, And Hippies Who Let Time Go Awry
2012? Armageddon? The Rapture to take you away to heaven?
A minuscule star, the smallest grain of sand, a butterfly lands right on your hand.
A moment, A breath, A blink- time to think of every possibility that has been jotted down in ink.
Freeze. Or move.
How much time will you drink counting the stars, pondering the infinite in a dream that is evolutionarily unfit?
Not enough to deplete the seas, but enough to drown you down to your knees in a swamp of open ended probabilities.
The same butterfly flew by, but how many butterflies in between, from your hand into your dream and out into the seas while you found yourself on your knees? There is one answer but it is unknown, this time don’t let all that time go.
Don’t freeze. Move. But here you are, doing the mind’s dance as you let time pass.
Blink.
This is a paper that demonstrates the relevance of female hormones and cycles on behavior, brain, and physiology; and differences between endogenous and synthetic hormones in women.
When life throws you a lemon, throw it back and keep hitting your resin because what the hell are you going to do with a lemon?
When life throws you a peach, eat it because what else are you gunna do with something so tasty and sweet?
When life throws you a jab, take it and use the energy to grab at something you wish you had.
When life back hands you, let it step off and push through it full force until it throws you another peach.
When life stabs you, bleed until you heal and slowly reveal your wound until you pull back, step diagonal, and take a bat to its knees until the world begins to freeze and all your lemons smack back into its god damned trees. Then feel the breeze and wait for the next tight squeeze- be careful, it’s always in 3s.
Repeat with ease.
