my infatuation lingers
because our interest sings to the melody of a song colored blue
I think of you frequently
wanting you to sink into me
keeping the frequency concrete and true
I need to stop writing about you
but the energy in my pen never fades
let me take your breath away
and I’ll catch you on the other side
- the late bloomer
our lips touched and I felt what forever could be
too bad forever comes tomorrow
I pack my sorrow deep
I cherish every moment and memory that we’ll keep
and as you press your lips into mine
I find every excuse not to fall in love with you
- the late bloomer
sweat dripped down my brow
heart beat to the rhythm of you
finding myself free
- the late bloomer
traces of me linger with the vibrancy best understood through touch
it’s a rush
quick
deep
safe
shall I say a sanctuary where a healing soul goes to breathe
if only for a moment
it’s a sudden relief
a poignant reminder of the reflection we create
- the late bloomer
if you saw an image of God, would you believe it?
if right now, in front of your all-knowing eyes of things that you understand as truth, you saw an image of God, would you trust it?
how does the imagination gather the absence of ignorance?
knowing that you’ve seen something that takes time to put into words that form a coherent explanation.
what do you build with that knowledge?
does your mind implode within itself because of the capacity it takes to comprehend the image?
what happens to the heart?
if you saw an image of God, what would you say?
- the late bloomer
perception is a hell of a drug.
i’m in recovery from a misdiagnosis.
it’s potent.
i’m focused.
- the late bloomer
the yearning to break free, submerged in solitude. at the moment of attainment, I have the sudden urge to panic. I anticipate separation. basically beg for it.
- the late bloomer
happy birthday to the ninety-five-year-old woman I met on a random afternoon in august, while she was walking with her daughter. she suddenly tripped over her shoes and fell down to the ground, scraping her hands just a bit. I found it interesting that this woman who is seventy years my elder fell in front of me. souls of a similar branch. I walked away hoping that she would live to see 95 and that I would live to see 25. so this goes to her.
to many more :)
-the late bloomer
how does one move forward in the midst of pain?
they learn what it takes to cope.
their brain hardwires itself to function as if nothing is out of the norm.
yet, the pain is still there.
still lingering as it works to alter your habits.
when does coping translate to actual healing?
- the late bloomer
raindrops fall rapidly from the sky
as they find their way through the crevices of my skin
I turn within and seek
on this day intended for me and my birth
exalting in my ascension from earth
from once I grew and now I stand
i’m grateful for the moments that have gotten me here
it’s my obligation to hold them near
and seek understanding in its life lesson
using knowledge as a weapon of protection
against self-doubt or neglection
I open
to the willingness of truth
planting the root of discovery and change
so beneficial to our interior design
walking with footsteps matched to the rhythm of my stride
collecting evidence of pride stretched deep and wide
from the depths of my soul
the chemical euphoric reaction is impactful
raindrops soak into me.
- the late bloomer
the feeling I have of being in my own apartment brings me an undeniable presence of joy, that manifests itself in forms of dance or exalting from my mouth with shout or a smile perhaps. I don’t really have the words to describe it. but I do.
- the late bloomer
do we even realize how often birds fly over our heads?
usually only noticing when they’ve flown past, or caw.
that’s kinda intriguing to think about.
…. to me at least
- the late bloomer
I got something to tell you
something I want you to always remember
just because you’re in the bed
doesn’t mean you’re in the heart
baby, you knew from the start
this wasn’t any deep, passionate love thing
couldn’t you see that you didn’t make their heart sing
you spoke a staccato tune of hope, of joy, of lust
you keep tryna hold on to those memories of that quick nut
i mean yeah it was a dripping penetration
you lose yourself in their arms
you allow a choke hole so gripping that cobra retreats from harm
what i’m saying is
it’s time to move on
- the late bloomer
yo you should check the facts
i’m coming up fast like an asthma attack
get the pump pump pumping on the brakes
nigga step back
taking a look at your life should have you grabbing the strap
ha!
nah i’m just playing
get some help though
cause i was just playing
it’s a cruel world
so fuck what they saying
just chill
you get me
yo you ain’t got the stamina
to keep up with my manners but
you should keep a record of
everything i’m adding up
don’t forget
subtract the bums
and you gotta carry the one
it’s real simple arithmetic
i’m real new to this shit
yep
you guessed it
i’m a little cocky
you gotta just watch me
cause you can never stop me
it’s like a marathon
run run run little rabbit
get the fuck on
crawl back in the hole where you fucking come from
i’m switchin up flows
like an infected tampon
just to keep you busy
- the late bloomer
let’s play a game
ready
set
go
let’s play a game
hasbro won’t know
here are the rules
much simpler than school
everyone gets a gun
i promise it’ll be so much fun
even tommy and chuckie, you betta run run run
let’s play a game
spraying everyone in sight
once you make it to the palace
you deserve a chalice
let’s play a game
making it look so easy
you must be an expert
i’ll let you practice with my nephew, before he gets his growth spurt
let’s play a game
with handhelds, rifles, even automatics too
active gameplay every breath, but… you knew
be the first to a game topping kill streak
everyone should feel your wrath
make em’ feel week
11 killings in five days
what a hell of a peak
hoping the one with the concealed weapon doesn’t cheat
let’s play a game
oozies, bazookas, choppas galore
i see them creeping around the corner, it’ll be best to hit the floor
popping off innocence and wonderment of the eye, just for that high score
let’s play a game
till the game system shuts off.
- the late bloomer
the essence of intimacy was ripped from me so slowly and passionately that I could not see that you had a hold of me taking control of me. I thought you were the soul in me but you are the lowest inhabitants of a human being. Even in the presence of scum. You make me numb you dumb mothafucka.
- the late bloomer
I’ve always wondered if people can share the same fantasies. The same sensational residue from the passion running down our lips. The same moment of loss breath and constantly moving electricity. The same feeling of being open and afraid. I would say you take my breath away, but that’s just a cliche. Because quite frankly, I gave my heart over to you giving you a closer view of the rhythm it creates when you’re around. A small drop from the depth of my emotions. I’m floating. So let me take this time and give you this small token. You’re in my fantasy. I’m not here to convince you otherwise, but I’ll be here until you realize.
- the late bloomer
Dreams keep me invested in a fantasy that's nicely digested because that's the reality I choose to prefect behind my eyelids. I wonder if dreams ever match the rhythm of the heart. The melodic tempo pounding in tune to the matched vibrations of the two that are widely in love. Undoubtedly connected and disjointed. Knowing that this will never have its chance. Losses counted. Adding up to an amount that has no ending. Reality of a dreamed fantasy.
- the late bloomer
What is depression?
Depression is an old friend who lingers.
Not a very demanding friend, but one that lets me know it’s always there for me.
Offering gifts of confusion, illusion, and pain.
The drug it releases makes me addicted
Leaving me conflicted
As it latches ever so softly to my psyche
Waiting until it’s unlikely that I’ll survive.
So I just try to enjoy the roller coaster ride
Soaking in this deadly high
Choosing to forget that depression is a concept of the mind.
What is depression but merely a moment in time.
- the late bloomer
sunflowers
are filled with a love and passion so deep every look into its eyes is everlasting
i’m captured
so perhaps I should
pay attention to what’s before me
and soak in this restoring of self
which is a constant
So to say, it is peace
United in the beckoning of warmth from above
Nurtured in the reverence that is God
Fueling while in the presence of light
Latching onto energy that is released
Opening every layer that has awaited saving
Wild and vibrantly free is the sanctuary
Enlightened through journeys to and from
Revel... in its stillness.
- the late bloomer