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. 

🙃🙃🙃

Daikanyama T-Site. 

11:54AM. 

Tuesday, June 21. 

I realized that I didn’t have a pen & desperately needed one to write down all the thoughts on my mind. I went to the stationary section. They have some reallly expensive pens, which I did browse & patiently explore. However, I subconsciously found the pens in my much preferred price range which I was very happy to see. 

It’s like when you’re looking at a diner menu. You know diners have some shit for everybody. So you look through the thick ass menu; you just want to find the shit in the $10 range because that’s all you have but you’re still curious so you take your time. 

Anyway, I picked 3 pens – One is yellow. BIC.  Ballpoint black ink, click pen. 150 yen. (I used it to write this) The other two are more of pen markers – Pilot. Teal & black. 100 yen each. 

I wemt to the cashier with my three pens and headphones on. I took them off to tell her that I don’t need a bag. My total was less than 400 yen. I put 1000 yen on the tray. She started looking for something. I noticed but I’m not tripping. She pulled out these laminated signs and started flipping through them. I was wondering why the fuck she was doing all that right then. I had thoughts on my mind to write down and she was lowkey blowing my high. 

She found the sign that is used for English speaking tourists that says that I can get my purchase tax free if I spend 5000+ yen and if I have my passport with with valid tourist visa. 

Of course, I don’t have a tourist visa because I’m not one but if I fucking was WHY THE FUCK, AS SOMEONE WHO JUST BOUGHT THE 3 FUCKING CHEAPEST PENS IN THIS BITCH SPEND 4600+ ADDITIONAL YEN JUST TO GET THIS SHIT “TAX FREE” (8% OFF)? 

I am not insulted at all, mind you.

I’m just like “do YOU care about having/utilizing common sense and critical thinking skills?

LOL. BISH WHET?

Anyway, I got my pens.

 🙃🤗😏

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. 

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).