Monday, April 18, 2011

48th st.

fuck. that house. there was a fence surrounding that house.


big mouth.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


this mid life crisis is really only a thesis, both end with "is" and "is" can only mean one real thing. there is no danger. this is exciting. this is the time when doors will be opening-not closing. everything can mean nothing or something-depending on how i look at it. and currently, i am tired of staring at the dreary. so, i will be a creator of sorts and rally odd thoughts on the past and futures and worry not. WORRY NOT.

Monday, April 4, 2011


wigs. they were different colors, sometimes. and to think that she must have cared a whole lot to have her babies back that she would go through all of the trouble of buying a few wigs. i wonder what made her choose certain colors? i remember her hair has always been the color of Auburn. I remember wanting to dye my hair in order to match hers. I remember when I looked up to her. I remember when she was our hero. Ours. My brother and I. That's right. I have a younger brother but sometimes, i forget that he is not the elder. Older. Older than I. So, she bought wigs and became a disguise. All the while, I-never knowing-that she would forever be a disguise. Even to her own children. I know this now. 26, and now it finally hits me.

remember that

when i was younger, i used to read. i read to take myself out of the element. i read because i had to. there was nothing else to do to distract me from what was around me. i think to some degree, I still read for this same reason. hide yourself in some pages, forget what is real forget what is not. my mother. she was always alone. fraught with anger, there have always been two sides to her. i think maybe the process of poverty, or maybe it's in the genes- or maybe she was exposed to filth as a child- there is no endpoint to excuses. (remember that) my mother. her skin has always been the same color. no emotion i'm all emotion. no emotion coems through her. i think it's maybe the cycle of her frustrations, or maybe it's her environment, or maybe it's the people that linger and hover around her- there is no endpoint to excuses (remember that) i stay and linger and hover around her over her over her over her as if i can protect her. but i know how this shit is going to end.


this music in the hotel lobby is draggin' me down. my family is a fucking joke. they are bringing me down.