Near Death

If I wouldn't have moved out of the way, I wouldn't be here right now. And it wasn't even like we were in the dark and everything, we had flashlights; the other cars moved out of the way just fine but that damn truck. I almost fucking died last night. I almost got hit by a fucking truck, if I wouldn't have followed my friend, I would've definitely been hit, head on. Hell if I would've been an inch out, I would've been side-swiped. And as if I didn't already hate Ford enough, it just so happened to be an F-150 that almost ran me down. Near death experiences are fucking terrifying… 

Raise My Body from the Ground

An ordinary day, a clouded mind, multiple thoughts cascading down my mental ladder. Tired of work, tired of reading, tired of multiple assignments at once. Words fill the page; the ink in the pen is running low as words keep filling the page. Characters and settings to memorize, poetry to analyze, consistent homework for three days now. Three days. I’m not tired physically; my psyche is the one with the fucking problem. I’m drained emotionally and I don’t know why. Call it being homesick, call it lack of human contact in the sense that I tend to go straight from my room to class then back to my room and shut myself away usually to do homework, or you can call it just one of those damn days. I’m just tired and sure I could partake in shit that’ll help me but those things would just change the topic only for me to come rushing back to everything all over again. An ordinary day, a clouded mind. A clouded day, an ordinary mind… 

Just Another Day

For the first time ever, I’m away from the family on my birthday. And it feels weird. Not only weird because it’s on a Monday, not only because I’m not really going to be able to celebrate it, and not even because I didn't really celebrate it this weekend, all I did the entire time was homework. It feels weird because I don’t feel like it’s my birthday; it feels like just another day to me. Nothing special is happening, no cake, no presents, at least perhaps not until next weekend when Mother Dear comes to visit but for the meantime it’s just another start of the week, another day of class and homework, another day of life passing by. 

Like Fine China

I know nothing about her except for her first name. I don’t know what she likes or what she hates; I don’t know anything about her life or her faith. I know nothing of her past or her present but if I get enough courage to actually say something, I could be a part of her future. I know nothing about her except for what she looks like. Beautiful eyes and a damn adorable smile. She likes to travel or so I believe. She exceeds in passion or so I imagine. What’s her creativity like? Will we be able to compare mine to hers and see if they’re in sync? I know nothing about her except for the sound of her voice. Soft and orchestral, her laugh contagious like the flu and I wouldn’t mind catching said sickness. I’ve only exchanged few words with her but I’ll be damned if I didn’t think about her afterwards. I know nothing about her except for the fact that she hasn’t stopped running laps in my mind for almost a full day, I don’t see her stopping for a break anytime soon and I’ve never been more ok with that. I welcome it actually…

Tell the Reaper Come and Get Me

I have written about drugs, sex, and violence.

I have been in and out of love.

I have helped deceive and have been deceived.

I have had horrible thoughts swimming inside of my mind.

I will throw you under the bus and hold your head underwater kick you while you’re down and proceed to bury your body.

I have had the feeling of my soul being empty

I helped one person cheat on their significant other, on their anniversary.

I was rude to certain people at certain times.

I judged certain people at certain times.

I swear like a sailor.

I am dedicated and determined.

I am not overly cocky.

I will often get drunk specifically to write.

I used to see women as objects for no specific reason. Now I love them for their minds, their intriguing way of thinking, and their personalities.

I used to care about what people thought about me, now I could give two shits about their opinion towards me because I know who I am and what I stand for and I know my strengths and barely know my weaknesses.

My heart is worth triple the amount that my physical appearance is worth.

I speak with a sober mind but spill out intoxicated words.

I speak the truth and rarely find it any other way.

I’d rather have you hate me for being honest than to go about the day lying to you.

Judge me on my past, my writing, or my character if you must, I know that my heart is made out of gold because of my mistakes. They have made me who I am… 

Dear Mama

Being away from home is a real strange feeling. Not waking up in my own room, not being able to see my best friend Odie, feels just odd. Not being close to the family, close to my mom it’s so weird. I’m luckily close to my brother but considering he’ll be working most of the time, I’ll only get to see him once in a while. But I know that I’m here for a reason. I’m here to continue my educational life and succeed, all the while making the family proud. So even though it’ll bring me down from time to time, even though a sudden rush of homesickness will hit at random intervals, I am here for not only myself, not only the family, but I am here for her. The lady that has provided so much love and support and knowledge. The lady that held me when I hurt or cried that shared multiple laughs and that yelled at me or called me out on stupidity. I am here for her; I am doing this for my mom. 

Increasing Your Heart Rate

        Her hand clutched the back of my head as I was in between her legs giving the downstairs neighbor a wicked tongue lashing. The actions that transpired that night are blurry due to possibly the few beers, the excitement, or the fact that all the blood from my head headed south. It wasn’t just kissing and touching nor was it the penetrating and sweating. It was more than that, it was the conversation we had prior, the kisses to her forehead, the listening to music that made us feel something in that moment. It was the way our eyes kept meeting in between sentences and we couldn’t help but smile, it was the clothes she was wearing then not wearing. It was her laughter, the stupid jokes, the look on her face while she was on top of me and I thrust myself further inside of her. Hitting the exact target, the spot that made her clutch my shoulders and dig her nails into my chubby limb. It wasn’t just about her eyes or her hair or her ass. It wasn’t about the sex, it was about her and me just being fucking together and being just one solid unit. It was about leaving all of the bullshit behind, forgetting about the outside world for a split second and just concentrating on the synchronized movement of our bodies as we came closer and closer to that one last powerful moan, the final thrust, the grabbing her gently and laying her down on her back and kissing her the whole way down. See it was more than just sex; it was the passion and romance. It was about sealing whatever our relationship was even if it was only a temporary contract. It was about love...