Theo’s mornings typically started before sunrise. Not because he wanted them to, but because they had to. In truth he didn't mind the peace and quiet of the early morning. He enjoyed the silence––there were a lot of things on his plate, both figuratively and literally. He leaned over the hot stove, one hand braced against the counter, the other adjusting the heat like muscle memory. Eggs, scrambled hard the way his auntie likes them, a pot of grits slowly boiling, and a fe

When I see him, I see a shade of blue so deep, it puts the ocean to shame. His eyes hold riptides–thrashing waves bracing against...

You are a dream… An epiphany and a love song, I love how our lives align How long till I can call you mine? I like to trace along your...

Maybe I’m not the muse. Maybe I’m the spark to the fuse, the ignite To a flare or maybe I’m even the signal. But I don’t think I’m the...

The hardest part of moving on is pretending, Let everything has mended. Like I dont care how fast you’ve gone, I can’t stand it–I feel...

I‘d say in the last year or so, I've learned a lot about myself in regards to my passions … What refines me? What defines me ? And what...

I've watched friends of mine turn red flags into red roses I've watched friends swoon In rose-colored glasses so clouded that... Wherever...

I am fermented screams and pulled punches. I am the distilled match I cannot light. I am a gag reflex of forgotten exchange. Forgotten...

Show me the language between body and soul-- How they weave and mend in transparent counsel. Show me, the abbreviations, the complexity,...

Some days are better Than others When my Dire desire becomes more than want More than crave A need to feel you. Baby, just a graze Raise...

Note to self ... My thoughts leave in post-it notes In trails behind me … Stuck to walls, furniture, Under shoes, on tables wherever...

Envy this kinetic energy So synthetic--but how electric our connections could be-- I see you on a spectrum from real and show, But what I...

The lyrics you’ve pulled out of me--god the vocations-- My chest hurts enough as it is, but the songs I’ve sung in the name us--? Such...

The thing with writers is that there can be no boundaries. There can be no wall between thoughts and paper (or keyboard for that matter)....

I have problems with drawing up conclusions, so instead, I trace Don't mind how these outlines over line Let's call it abstract, yeah okay? Okay. This parchment paper is thin, like these walls You see, She's an artist, She paints red down the halls She paints loud and with hybrid colors She demands an attention I can't acculturate. So, okay. She's got a painter's process, Yeah, okay. Okay. One that destroys canvases and splinters brushes. Though these paintings are always the

This situation is not poetic. It is like hearing the wedding bells in broken glass. It is like seeing the red flags through red shades....

There is a disconnect here. The data flow, the energy, the innovation, the control, the link--the chain of command-- this connection more...

The difference of 16 years. Baby sister, Kaydece a repetition of me onto you. I can’t look away, your fresh eyes hardly bother to meet...

She wants baddies that run through in the caddies Low ridders, lean slobbing machine, --I scream, you scream--hit ya boy Don up for more...