may / 

Cooler than a cucumber / Flipped the pillow though / But there’s no need / Hands shaking when you touch there / You keep going / Windows run with water drops / Eyes are the windows to the soul / It’s a sun shower / Might not have noticed / On the other side of those 4 limbs / Haven’t seen you for some time / Was only warming up.
///
He said I smelled like earth / He asked where I was from / He felt Atlanta or Harlem. 

i noticed that

his hair is tough like my fathers. in all of my 26 years, he’s only been around for less than 2 percent of it all and somehow, the care, patience, and understanding he has shown me has far surpassed what i’ve received from my father during my entire lifetime.

i noticed that she reminds me of my grandmother. the way she plans ahead without announcing her doings. she walks cautiously. she speaks carefully. the things she doesn’t know she asks about with appreciation and passion, unafraid of revealing her unfamiliarity and eager to gain more knowledge.

friendships are flowers — in order to appreciate a full bloom, we must be present for all the moments in between.

salvation

I love hood politics. I love hood culture and hood theories. I’m so glad that I’m from Atlanta and that my adolescence was so heavily integrated in Rap/Hip-Hop culture which often spoke on concepts that derived from the hood. It taught me a lot. Hip-Hop/Rap can gives us lessons on hood etiquette and hood morale. These lessons often transcend the hood mentality and can really open your mind up to some deep sociological & psychological shit.

I remember when I was able to wrap my brain around the intricacies of the concept of “saving hoes”. I’m still waiting for women to claim this phrase and use it also for their sexual/romantic pursuits with the same level of arrogance that men do.

This idea of “saving hoes” is really some deep intellectual shit. Basically, men have been using this to say that they rescue women who are considerably sexually promiscuous from increasing their body count. Body count meaning the amount of men they have sexual interactions with. “To save a hoe” is when a man says to himself “ok, I’m going to step in and give this woman guidance because she is fucking around because she is lost and I’m going to give her the tender, love, & care (or the best dick she ever had) she needs so she can see herself as a queen”.

It’s really something that people of all genders, sexes, religions, ages, races, nationalities, ethnicities, and cultures do. So many of us think that our love or attention/affection can save someone else. Sometimes it can, but it doesn’t work because the giver wants it to. It works because the receiver has decided within themselves that they want and deserve love. They first must be ready, willing, and able to give love to themselves. They must grow sick and tired of their old habits and be excited about evolving and doing it on their own terms.

Sometimes the “giver” or the one who is presumably doing the “saving” also has a lack of self purpose where they can try to force feed this salvation onto their partner because they feel like they were ordained to do so. They feel like they have something that the other needs. This is also just as unhealthy as the person who allegedly needs “saving” trying to reprogram themselves because someone has entered their life trying to convince them that they should do things differently.

I’ve seen this happen so many times. It’s also something to learn from and shouldn’t be avoided if you’ve never been in it, I think. I think we all need to be in these situations to learn and grow from them. Although, in the midst of it, things can be stressful and painful. Just hopefully, you have the ability to realize that your discomfort is not something you have to accept and live with. Because yes, it will be very uncomfortable looking into the eyes of someone everyday who only finds their identity in you and you in them. That’s exactly what happens when you try to change someone to fill your void and you change for someone else to fill your void. You lose your sense of self.

Everybody is looking for something. I just know for a fact that you can’t find you in another person. You are only you. You can only be you. The moment we try to seek ourselves in other people the universe because a darker, colder place. You block your light and find refuge in someone else’s which also blocks their light.

You know what happens when too many devices take from the same energy source? The source won’t power as fully. The lights may flicker. The power may surge. This happens in humans. Our power can surge as well.

I have homies who are going through this now. They are hurting. They think this hurt will lead to some rewarding state of love in their relationship that is full of euphoria and peace. They are drained and confused, trying to find purpose in life through their relationships. They feel blocked. They revolve their lives and their thoughts around this partnership. They are seeking salvation through this pursuit of happiness in romance.

No judgement. I’ve been head over heels in it. I’ve seen it growing up. I’ve rapped along to stories of it. I’ve cracked jokes about it. I’ve advised friends against it. I’ve guided friends through it.

Growing up, I thought it was just something that happens with chicks who had “daddy issues” and guys that didn’t respect women. I thought those where the ones who were viewed as needed “saving” from bullshit relationships and seemingly worthless patterns. It’s not just something that happens as hood statistics though. We all find ourselves in toxic situations. Whether in love, work, business. We just have to learn how to make self-assured decisions for ourselves if we truly are unhappy in our current situations. We shouldn’t wait for someone else to come along, sing our praises, & make us feel worthy and empowered.

Maybe that’s the yin|yang to life though. Maybe I’m giving humans too much credit. Maybe the lack of self-love that so many of us have gives us purpose in our life journey. Essentially, maybe the desire to love ourselves more is the life force that keeps individuals seeking truth. Maybe that’s why we are all gathered here today by this thing called life.

Just remember when you’re crying over your lover or when you trying to sex the pain away, there’s not enough stroke in the vitamin D or enough power in the P that you’re serving that can save your bae from themselves.

GTFOHWTB

Too often, I’ve met these types. Sometimes I’ve loved them. I wanted to do so. They were allowed to be loved, of course. However, I’ve used all my allowances. I will no longer allow myself to drain my energy trying to make the world a better place by attempting to teach man-boys about spectrums. I am a retired instructor/therapist at the “International Fuckboi Rehabilitation Center”. 

So, to speak on “these types”, the fuckbois… The man-boys who like to portray themselves as enlightened and understanding. They like to portray themselves as the “Love Wins, BLM, Black Girl Magic, Pro Black, Woke…etc” intellectual, free spirit, artsy type. They are attracted to my boldness and shaved head. My mystery. They like to comment on my strength and how it’s so becoming. They like to tell me that I’m beautiful with such context that suggests that I needed affirmation from them, because oh of course, they make the rules & determine what’s beauty. I fucking know I have star power already. Then somehow, they will try to tear me down, when I challenge some absurd comment that slips from their lips. They have said “that’s just how men talk”. They will then be taken aback when I am not moved by their sweet nothings which reflect the instinctual arousal of their flesh. I am otherworldly, sir. Do better. I am not stimulated by your penial banter that you mask with predictable prose.

They will try to challenge my abstinence and my sensuality; as though the two can’t coexist. They have tried to manipulate me as a result of their own insecurities, because they wanted to control me with such cruel efflictim. I still can’t believe that they believe I love my breasts because they fantasize about them. No, you imbiscle. I love them because they are apart of me. It’s just that simple. 

They have tried to judge me because my complexities made them uncomfortable because it was not a part of their bullshit formula on how I should behave. I have disappointed many. I have offended many. I have only grown to love myself and the many undefinable ways I can be woman, black, and human.

Goddess.

I watched this piece & felt so loved — so understood. I truly want to forward this to everyone on the planet. Let’s translate this to every language. I would cc the fuckbois first. They need to see this urgently. Watch this overwhelmingly accurate piece, directed & written by Cecile Emeke, a woman of color using film to provoke & inspire ~

fake deep | cecile emeke

IDFWU

I thought about you this afternoon.

I thought about how I haven’t thought about you.

I thought about how you won’t be able to say my name to me again. 

I’m thinking about you now. 

I’m thinking about if you’ve attempted to contact me because I wouldn’t know. 

I’m thinking about how much effort I don’t have to put into keeping myself from contacting you because I don’t fucking care.

I’m thinking about our sex. 

I know how to separate the two.

That famous line goes “it’s me, it’s not you”

It’s me. 

I was our sex.

You were just good at channeling. 

I cared once.

I don’t fucking care anymore.

You don’t fucking care. 

You were just good at channeling.

Now, there’s nothing to channel.

There is no longer a channel. 

I don’t fuck with you. 

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.