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ILWD

i am in love with dreaming
what else is better to build a future with
what else is better to sustain
nail polish will chip
make-up must always be reapplied
cosmetics must always be replaced
lipstick will always smear
you can’t sleep in concealer
jewellery hides the skin
socks get holy
lingerie gets ragged
fashion fluctuates in value
vintage is subjective
vinyl records get scratched
body shapes will vary
coffee stains
food will perish
the sun will set
the moon might hide on a cloudy sky
the clouds might rage with storms
storms might ruin towns
heritage can be unknown
races can blend
skin can change pigmentation
ethnicities are ambiguous
species can go extinct
nations can lose borders
economies is opt to crash
leaders are able to disappoint
identifications must be renewed
names can changes
society is fickle
relationships are fluid
time doesn’t wait
romance is elusive
orgasms are spiritual
people are unpredictable
relationships aren’t obligatory
i am in love with dreaming
what else is better to build a future with
what else is better to sustain

When you love hard, but you’re a gypsy…

April 8, 2015

at 2:16pm, we casually strolled an open sidewalk in a latin suburb southwest of LA. with interlocked hands and synchronized steps. we walked with no destination to slow down time. any onlookers knew we were parting ways. they knew I was passing through. my bags labelled me as an international traveler with ID tags still attached to them from my previous voyage. I had placed my bags in the backseat as we loaded your car to head back to the city. I wanted to make a smooth exit with perspective that cloaked my heart. although, I wasn’t sad, detaching a bit seemed fitting. having my bags next to yours along the ride in the trunk seemed too connected. I hoped you weren’t offended by my shift in emotion on the ride back from our weekend retreat. this retreat had been a magic carpet ride with you and was either having a layover or was ending. I didn’t want to have feelings that I thought were too heavy and intense, yet I couldn’t fight their lingering presence. adjusting myself with these feelings that I had never experienced wasn’t so easy to finesse. in the moment, I knew we’d probably create more memories. it just bothered me that I didn’t know when and how they would come about. you parked, signaling a prerequisite to our final moments. I didn’t know whether to rush inside or to open my body for you again to commemorate the moment with what I’d hope would be more adventure and less awkwardness. or it could have resulted in the complete opposite. should we even commemorate at all? with my bags on my back, we kissed and I might have numbed my feelings to let logic prevail. as I crossed the street to head in, I contemplated. I didn’t want to walk away from you without looking back & making eye contact as my physical drifted away. although it seemed cliche, I wanted you to know that you were worth every second, no matter how simple it may seem. as the path got too narrow and distant, I turned around to wave. it was yet another sentiment for me, and worth the step outside of my comfort zone. once again, I had taken off my cool for you. I would go inside my cousins’ house to find it empty. my memories with you were enough to fill the room and more, but still I thought to call you, stop you before you got too far away, and invite you in to create more moments and extend time more with me. in this moment, it was the thought that counted. even after days together with laughter to tighten abdominals and sex to burn the fat, I wanted more. I liked the fact that I missed you and longed to create more priceless moments with you. my desire to give you more of me, have more of you & more of us aroused me and inspired me. it also gave me an abundance of serenity, humility, and gratitude, knowing that our connection is exactly what I had been longing for. hours later, you would message me. “come on and let me in, I’m callin'” — a lyric. it was like an omen… a song that made you think of me, as I’m thinking of you and my invitation(s).

4:50 AM (JST)

Their cup is full, yet empty. Either way, it runneths over. It never seems to be enough. Everything is purple. Two’s company; double cupped. Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t understand. They don’t speak the code. Everything is dipped in gold. Luxury is trending even if it’s fake. Followers are currency. Luxury is trending even if its imitated. ‘As Fuck’ is a valid measurement. Fuckboy mentality is deep AF. Frozen moods, cold hearts, as they’re living for a camera. Nobody has the answers. There’s different versions of the test. Free the nipple. Dim the lights. Get lit AF. Endorphins are imported. All the culture is extorted. Consciousness becomes aborted. Feels are felt. Feelings change. Humans become toxic waste. Praying for the world to change. We can all still dance though, even if the music sucks. Ignore the beats per minute because the DJs will play for us. If everyone stopped the fist pumping, then EDM wouldn’t make the cut. Stop supporting the tasteless equations. We all should support innovation. If it’s something you don’t understand, then there’s something to learn from the situation.

My mind is everywhere; my body is here.

Somewhere in the world, someone is dying. Somewhere in the world, someone just experienced their first breath of life. Somewhere in the world, someone just had their first orgasm. Somewhere in the world, someone just fell in love. Somewhere in the world, someone is heartbroken. Somewhere in the world, someone doesn’t believe they’re beautiful. Somewhere in the world, someone is trying to convince themselves of something. Somewhere in the world, someone has found their voice. Somewhere in the world, someone is living a lie. Somewhere in the world, someone wants to end it all. Somewhere in the world, someone is wondering if they are alone. Somewhere in the world, someone just wants all their dreams to come true. I think the latter is all the above.

F Keys

All sorts of shortcuts that we take

We don’t want to sweat

That is for the poor

We don’t want to sweat

That is for the beach

We don’t want to cry

That is for the lonely

We don’t want to cry

That is for the ill

We don’t want to disrupt

That is for the impolite

We don’t want to disrupt

That is for the rebels

We don’t want to be naked

That is for the vulnerable

We don’t want to be obvious

That is for the uncool

We don’t want to be fools

That is what we are