Dreams - UF

It feels like I've entered an unknown place, full of moments plastered onto cement walls laid by the hands of old, moisturized by tears of new, raining on today's character as gloom consumes the visual this fragile body keeps beneath her eyelids...seeing what a dying dream embodies Lord, I no longer care to dream I no longer care to hear the loud cries of my failures or the crackling remnants of disbelief twisting my arm tighter and tighter, bullying hope, betting I'll give up. I no longer want to rest alongside the dumpster of narcoleptic fiends, searching for that first dream, that first scene that elevated their minds; my mind... got me all high, high into a place condoned by the heavens... A place of pleasance, where the Greatest pressed play...Debuting the greatness He'd planted within me before my life was placed on display for nine months...it was more than just a dream...but scenes, seen through His eyes, realigning mine to see me as He sees me. Lord, I no longer care to dream I want my dreams to breathe...to receive... The oxygen that will engage my diaphragm, Tightly grabbing hold of scenes and never letting go...never letting go... Breathe... Breathe...breathe until the motions create a space large enough to harness the revolutionary process of "life-ing" that unknown place...Until every vision is enriched, oxygen thick...where the sync becomes automatic, downloading into my Spirit the precepts of movement, moving meant towards purpose...His purpose, towards will...my will...to fulfill what drove me to the hills of a thousand cattle Lord, I no longer care to dream I want my dreams to breathe...

Gen Curses

It begin in my dreams...those things That have been caped onto the back of decay Through generational regurgitation of lifeless speech Rendering me, opposition before setting my eyes on earth A curse... And its identity wore no words Instead, it hooked up with passion and dressed itself in love Kisses and hugs, hugs and kisses from the misses, Missing what my great great great grand envisioned When she spoke the oath that tied her soul and priced her worth A curse... From her mouth, foundations of wisdom were woven, Word by act, like flowers no seeds; patching together hurt with hope Shaping a coat to lay over the cancer that was deposited into her creed ...deposited into her spirit, to eat a hole into her soul His devise was full of woes, uncontrolled without rehearse A curse... But she spoke, without repose as if no one would know That the letters breathed onto me were breached, Broken speech, passed down from her to her, to her then me So that my speech and my speech's speech would always feed into a stolen soul It breaks here... those things That has been caped onto the back of decay Through generational regurgitation of lifeless speech No dying before death, nor eating disbelief It breaks here, with life-speaking me

Sweet Feet

Ohhh my God, my feet hurt And they seem like they may be swollen - God, I hope not because that's more pain I mean, who likes pain? You know, these are my favorite pair of shoes. I discovered them while on a business trip at this sunny blue boutique downtown. And I remember entering this little boutique, with chimes alarming me, I'd open the door to accessory and before me lay thee...a pair of shoes, this pair to be precise. It had been anticipating my arrival; It lay alone atop a delicately carved, unfinished, uni-body zingana wood display, which framed the shoes' irresistible poise between a warm wooden aroma and a strikingly bold grain pattern.. There was no label or price tag, or perhaps the sight before me had left me impervious to my senses. I approached it with a combination of comfort and excitement no less than that of a bride as she walks down the aisle. As I leaned in, the heel of the right shoe bowed on one knee and declared, "you want to marry me." I do...I do...I do...I had to have these shoes. They seemed perfect. The quality of leather projected longevity. The heel was balanced yet sharp; it promised to support yet stimulate. . And who would've known that the sole was impressively reinforced with a rare substance that would provide ultimate comfort in the most uncomfortable of settings. This was my shoe. I proudly swiped my debit card, walked out, and tightly clutched my new interest without a hint of regret as the sound of the chimes and the aroma of the beautiful display faded away... Ohhh Jesus, my feet hurt And they feel like they're inflamed Lord, I hope not because that's more pain And I mean, who likes pain? These shoes were never tried...on, that day it changed. It really changed. I carefully put on these shoes, secured the strap, and before examining the fit; I took off in extreme bliss. I was happy, confident, joyous, and every other adjective that could measure what I thought to be perfection. And let me tell you, I wore these shoes with every concoction of attire! They made every outfit look outstanding. I appeared taller which, by default, improved my posture. I even found myself assigning titles like "gurllll these are one-of-a-kind" and "yes honey, they're exclusive" to the shoe only because of its perceived originality... Not merely because of its origin. Annndddd that's where I went wrong. I couldn't run in these shoes...skip in these shoes...shop in the shoes...preach in these shoes. Heck, I could barely fit these shoes! And my toes never hesitated in reminding me that this was a huge NO NO! See, this pair of shoes was designed for display...photo-ops...closet enhancers. The asthetic perfection belied the slow pain that now defines it. I'd always find it amusing how my friends un-doubtfully noticed them while searching through my closet. They even look good to you, right? Yeahhhhhh, but they hurt. Initially, they gave the impression of the "perfect fit". Provided great support, sturdiness, designed with a degree of excellence and looked amazing on my feet. And just like my other shoes, I thought as time progressed, a "breaking-in" would occur. You know...That moment where you and your shoe become one...where a level of comfort is established and everything gets better. That never happened. My feet began to hurt within the first month of wearing the shoes. I would find myself attempting to drive (as I normally do in most shoes) but the pain and pressure of trying to walk in a shoe originally designed for display carried pain...intense pain. The kind of pain that would lead you to the doctor.asking Him once again to mend a broken heart. I mean, a tender yet enlarged bunion. And this wasn't nearly half of it. I learned that the shoe should not have been on display, neither for sale. That particular shoe was manufactured improperly and deemed defective two months prior to me walking into that little boutique. God said, I mean the Designer said, it was a counterfeit version of what was scheduled to be released 7 weeks later. He said he attempted to reach out to the owner of the boutique to relay the message but discovered the store was no longer in existence. Surprisingly, it closed the day after I purchased these shoes. I was set up to see up. And now I stand up, stronger than I was before.wondering how I even managed to allow my haste to wear on me like paste, tasting all over again, the lust of my chocolate skin.

Journey

I walked into a room filled with white space and pupils Absent bodies, no minds, just minding my every move As my worn down taps connected to the tile flooring, A sound was created, personally annoying but familiar And they would wait... Wait to see this very sound of unbalance Balancing yet again, the stones that lay beneath me Was it entertainment or another walk of hope Minding mine with their mindless minds I don't know why and I couldn't stop to think about it Because the Spirit purchased my steps and took my watch Hmph, talk about time... And the legally existing me wanted to see the time, Carry the time...on my wrist, often I even tried to buy another dream-keeper But the face of it was never large enough So I gave up...rather slaved up The limitations this world paid towards Convincing me I should consider the pupils of those I'd never seen, staring at my side as I pass by Some would say I souled out and I'm proud of that Because I know when I'm not me, best happens Happens monumentally, in every next room I'm still walking...

The Stay

I gave you a piece of me, with little hesitation, only to satisfy my character's perception of a wait...subconsciously knowing you'd wait no time...I had to follow protocol tho, right? At least the 9-5 human believed so and who would want to jeopardize a tailored reputation? Hemmed up by the finest lectures and creased with legendary alumni. I left all of that there tho. All of that...mostly the fear behind his non-refundable reservation to vacate deformed and weighed down comfort...Not caring about any other occupants, simply the stay. Sim-ply-the-stay, the stay of frayed ends...yet an end frayed by the heat she felt when her comfort took a seat next to what was presented to be free, over and over again. Pushed over and over again, building pieces into parts, setting apart the differences in each person that lays there to stay...stays until it's sunny and blame dissipates...aware that it never will, so dreams just pray until reality visits one day...reproofing what reality had written in fine print that very first day.

The Morning After

Hilton's cozy duvet hugged me as laid on my side wondering how to begin an expression short of periods, full of commas, layered with question marks, yet topped with exclamations. This Sunday served as the morning after, the morning after I tasted my own dessert. For the first time, I became engulfed in an unbelievable mouth-watering delivery that stole my words and colored me red. My security placed a comma to mask my reaction, but my heart couldn't portray it straight.

Absent of my strength, the chef noticed the beat skipping freely on the sidewalk of my descending aorta, so in an effort to erase the uncommonly and stabilize pressure, I smiled timidly and muffled, It was impeccable. (I know that was unexpected, but he was unexpected and his darn good dessert was unexpected, and now these butterflies are expecting, expecting me to feed them. )

The morning after entered the past, leaving crumbs so that the present would find its way back if I slept with denial, giving him the part of me I protect not. Hoping to forget how his eyes reached for words that belong to me, delicately experiencing my energy...I'm weak, exclamation mark...around him. My letters stumble downward, as unfamiliarity expends my reservoir...so what I typically say, isn't so typical anymore, leading me back to the morning before...before I let go.

All So Familiar

Denial raped me, thinking I was a virgin to reality and the benefits panned out to be painless, painfully strangling my pride. And if I was asked where's my pride, I'd say I lost it at birth. Humble beginnings lusted over me, lustering my demeanor...and I'm her. Mazed to amaze how this class became an 8'oclock after midnight and transparency is still lost. Clarity became an option and the decision wasn't made, or was it? The answer lies in discovering how my sheets folded over tightly among the solar system... To be without any earthly idea, I became constrained to the bed I seemingly made for myself. For once, I was a heavenly body revolving about the sun, shining son, clothed in his own, among the stars...a withdrawn me connected so naturally, my heart spilled and I slipped on the dampened floor. He must've been here before, it couldn't be his first time. And as the neurons in my brain race to support the thought of searching for a reason, I open my eyes.