There was a time where I would make sense of shit that didn’t make sense
Since I can remember
I played with fictional characters
before I knew it
dangerous fake shit
existed around my heart and other stuff
leaving me senseless
about not sensing that many of my senses
were not operating in sync
Letting all of it sink…
When our romantic needs are enveloped in desired aesthetics, we experience bio and physical chemistry that draws us to the human of interest, causing an undeniable attraction. It feels great, divine, and too good to be true, but it’s not yet love; however, a normal biological-type response connected to our primitive nature. A great night on the dance-floor, a dope-ass conversation in the aisles of the bookstore, or a one-night stand under the moonlight on the beach is magical, but should not be considered the baseline of answering the question “is this love?”
I don't want to fall into more hatred towards those who are programmed to kill black people, but FUCK! So many weapons are being unleashed upon us right now, it is getting really hard to namaste my way through the days.
The video is being deleted from every platform-- so hopefully you watch it before it's gone off of Youtube
"A decision enacts a position of ultimate control by giving up the need to fearfully dictate the minor adjustments in major shifts." ~ ParKer Bryant
Right before the Coronavirus outbreak in America, I found myself in a season of making solid decisions. Suddenly, there was a need to re-direct energy into more purposeful and defined space; limiting misunderstandings to the point of extinction from years of stalled conclusions. There was a force graced by consent to say, “okay, it’s over,” and also, “yes, please come in and examine me as I explore you.” No’s were solid and unable to be uprooted and permissions were granted without wavering. What was this newness of life?