The only thing that matters now is the dauntless efforts of my recalibrations. My tunnel vision
Blinding me matters, to me, much. Consume me. Blind me some more. I have no other wish
But to wish the retread fruits joy. The sides are darker. I dim them like everybody else
Is dimmed and damned. And, now
I soak my skin in some blueberry juice and moonlight. I want
To be one of the best parts of my man and my momma. I want
To learn to love and create until the world bleeds my name and
No stratosphere is there to hold me back from exuding that
Prowess and power bleeds benefit with it, maps ...Read more
1. Prelude To The Prelude:
He thrives in chaos. He thrives. He thrives.
“Same old demons, hello. I’ve slain this balrug before,
I’ll slay it again.” He chimes.
The dead gardener, having said good bye to the company of the gimlet consumed,
Lets out an exasperated smile– a weary that doesn’t reach
The eyes of the unproductive dream-killers as it does their feet–
The feel of their ankles that are stone-cold like more forks in the righteous road–
Only that the roads are cunning– Only that the roads are different.
The roads are ever such revisionists. So be everything tha ...Read more
Anarchy of the mind.
I wrote some welcome-to-my-blog remarks, which you can read here.