Poetry · Writing

getaway

i can’t stop the shaking,

the feeling of giving up

dropping everything

& start anew.

somewhere where no one knows

anything, where i can build,

somewhere quiet,

it won’t stop the shaking

it’ll be back the next day

maybe a month from now

but that time

sounds perfect

Poetry · Writing

blood adjacent

these are fine

this place right here

found it on a whim

i call it a win

i call it home

doesn’t matta where you from

you my brotha for life

this one and the next

your wife will be my sista

your husband will be my brotha

this bond is my treasure

this place right here

found it on a whim

i call it a win

i call it home

Poetry · Writing

scrapyard

you changed a lot-

all for the better

just not sure who’s

all in an attempt to be better

just not sure,

better than who,

i hope you sit down a write this out

before all that is left

is a scrapyard

of mixed dreams

false identities

wrapped in a fleece blanket,

each step was good

it was your own;

Poetry · Writing

jail cell

can’t be the breaker of chains

when your own dreams keep you bolted down

masking your insecurity with fools gold power

got you here, begging in front of an earless ghost

to let you free;

but you’ll be here in the morning

with a new plead you can try to be free

from your own self pity

let the world come to you

the power will only keep you here