SWV

dreamt he loved another woman too

maybe he could make me wetter

make my wet dream cum true

his feminism wouldn’t be just for me

he wouldn’t bring her down to bring me up

he’d rain for my wet dream

he’d rain for her

he’d rain for me

he’d reign for my wet dream

and reign for a universe with infinite thrones

and reign for a universe to embraces vessels

and reign for generations to sow seeds

and reign for generations to bear fruit

and reign for a fluid universe

and reign for her

and reign for me

and rain on her

and rain on me

Advertisements

i’m not being extra. 

had a beautiful cry 

like i had a blade dragged into me to remove a dormant cancer that was hidden & resting but in great magnitude. 

before this cry, i had a productive day.

i laughed and smiled.

i worked on new projects. 

i saw people who i admire.

i had endorphins flowing through my body.

i had a cry @6A after a bike ride home during a call home to my grandmother. 

it was like blockage was removed and resting pain that existed inside me exited in bulk, in the same vain of my living joy. 

i could see myself screaming as babies do when they become aware of the vast world – life replanting me from my comfort zone to one more visibly boundless.

my grandma laughed and said i’m perfect. 

circa 2004

These days, life is like the summer between jr high and high school. I don’t know it all but I’ve seen some things. I’ve grown apart from people. I’ve seen things come to an end. I’ve seen sadness. Creating precious moments that are like deep secrets is a hobby. I’ve built comraderies through shared experiences. Most things inspire me. I am very expressive. I dance often. I kiss my friends. I hold their hands. I want them to feel special. Life is not sexualized. Life is pure. My male friends are my brothers. My female friends are my sisters. I’ve seen happiness. I’ve gotten into trouble. I know life is about choices. I’ve taken some risks. I’ve seen my peers do foolish things for the attention and approval of others. I enjoy inside jokes. I’ve seen the ying and yang in my elders — some bitter, some better. My heart is warm. I like to write notes, lay on my bed naked & listen to music, & give flowers to strangers. I don’t take things too seriously, although I know some of my peers do. They think that’s what the future will demand from them. I’m enjoying breaking the rules, cherishing my friendships, living for my favorite things, and having a good laugh. The tests will always be there.

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

PRO-COLOR

i don’t want to live in a colorless world. if white people [genetics] can get be glorified, can be the norm, can be the societal standard of beauty, can be the ruler, can be what’s sought after (for centuries), how can i be wrong for wanting the paradigm shift to happen. i am not wrong for believing that my melanin should be appreciated & loved universally, not to shame another race, but to UPLIFT my own. i am not wrong for wanting the truth about the DEEEEEP suffering of people of color to be understood, not to erase the history but to change it. i want for people EVERYWHERE to look back at the timeline and celebrate the magnifigance of people of color because of the beauty that prevailed through the culture, despite centuries of oppression. this is what i have finally been able to admit to myself after years of subtle brainwashing. i have realized that living in a colorless world and eradicating race is synonymous with silencing black excellence.

strange fruit

[45houses.com // john klukas photography]

 

i’ve always despised labels when associated with people. they make me cringe. i don’t even like when people ask me where i’m from. it’s like my identity is at the mercy of whatever stereotype they have formed about americans or people who were born in massachusetts, or people who were raised in the atlanta, or people who move to los angeles — and of course — i’ve been at the mercy of whatever stereotypes people have associated around people with my skin complexion, people who are gender fluid, women of color, and women. it can be a mind fuck.

labels and categories are boxes that have always been difficult for me and at times have made me very uncomfortable. i’ve felt self conscious, wondering if i would be accepted, afraid that i didn’t fit the mold, concerned that i would be put on a pedestal, fearful that i would be outcasted, ostracized, judged, hated. i’ve felt paranoid and on the edge of insanity. i was overly concerned about the fact that i felt like i didn’t fit anywhere.

i would be proactive about everything. analyzing my own thoughts before i said them to possibly forecast all the ways that what i said could be perceived. i wanted to be understood and i wanted people to feel good around me. i wanted to connect with people. i wanted people to like me. i thought “how could this happen if my thoughts make people uncomfortable? how can i connect with people, if they think i’m a fucking weirdo?”

the world we live in creates this dynamic where many of us feel like who we are isn’t good enough because we are not deemed normal or ideal. some assimiliate. some try to flee society. there are so many paths in between; each path with its loopholes and each path with its challenges.

i knew this as a child somehow. i was so confused as a young girl. the concept of normalcy taunted me. haunted me. consumed me at times. i didn’t know which path to take. i just knew that i wanted to feel good about life but i didn’t know if i would chose the “right” path.

my neighborhood friends were popular and super into boys in elementary school. they were forming crushes and wearing lip gloss. i was tall, slim, had dimples, and a bra size. i had to like boys too, right? of course, i HAD to want their attention. i had some of what society brainwashes us to identify as desirable physical traits. my neighborhood friends would play fortune telling games to predict who they would marry and what kind of house they would have. i just wanted to ride my bike, watch cartoons, eat cereal, and read goosebumps. yet, i tried to affiliate with something that didn’t exactly align with who i felt i was, as many people do.

despite my attempt at oblivion, i remember at a young age feeling very misunderstood. not only was i not boy crazy, i had this infatuation with the human body, specifically the female body — my body. i would sit in front of my full length mirror, lock the door and explore myself with intrigue. i grew this appreciation for my body at a young age. in hindsight, it was innocent but in the mind of my father, i was sick. my father’s discovery of my adoration provoked him to give me a beating so horrific that i had to sit in a bathtub filled with chilled water and ice to soothe the bruises and welps. the teachers at school noticed. child protective services warranted a protective order from my father. a child psychologist said i needed therapy. my grandmother wondered how to show me love. my grandmother’s sister proclaimed i was a lesbian. i wanted to die. i was 10.

misconceptions, labels, categories, stereotypes have really fucked me over. it caused me to have some dark thoughts and i experienced gender violence at an early age because i didn’t behave in a way my father understood. he didn’t know how to love me and my love for myself began to be in question and in jeopardy.

the abuse i received began with my father, continued with the world, and ended with a past lover, keenan uriah girard, whose demons sent me to the emergency room. he had an evil inside of him that i hope he has overcome. it is an evil that i can never forget or forgive. it is an evil that i have learned to accept that exists in the world. it is an evil that i will never sacrifice myself again to try to understand. it is an evil that i will never empathize with. it is an evil so horrific that the people who possess it should not be considered human. it is an evil that makes monsters of life. it is an evil that i hope dies within itself, never to manifest again, never to be able to disguise itself again. it is an evil that i burdened myself to protect until now…

disgorge.ous

pry open my mouth. dig past my deep throat and expose my words before i swallow them. force yourself inside me and give these words life. expose them for what they really are without the fancy prose i hide behind often. sometimes i nearly choke because of the restraint. I’m holding back. make me release. make me submit. make me trust you. make me purge.