engulfed in 10 pages.

it's almost like . i can hear you . thinking of me . and it drives . my mind . around . and i see you . dreaming of me .

one hundred-ninety one.

off that.

hiding beneath layers and

layers of tainted moments

that were carried away with

the dusty wind at dusk, you remain

hiding beneath layer and layers

of juvenile moments that have

been tossed into the sea

of forgetting and repositioning

in the sea of change, they're gone.

but yet, you find a way to

hide beneath these passed moments

that were not shared, that are now

marred and coated in disdain.

we've both traveled on the same path

for far too long and our feet wiped away its

accurate destination, and that's where we fell off.

and since we fell off, i've been off.

now, won't your eyes

see something new?

rumble in the jungle.

as i am trying to do my schoolwork, my phone begins to sing to me the most beautiful melody then, it stops as i read a message from a friend that reads the funniest most random thing i've read in a while:

x: Just asked this girl how she sewed n her weave with natural hair... I hope she FB me back.. Can u put that on ur prayer list as well :D

me: ... wow. i have to blog this. sorry! you will be nameless.

x: Lol

one hundred-ninety.

white winter lie.

dear winter,

this city is making you a

liar.

you see, it makes you out to feel

the way you say you don't feel.

it disguises you without your knowledge

and forces you to look a way you've never wanted to look.

it dictates your actions and directs your motion

in a different direction, avoiding a city that waits for you.

somehow, he's not upset with that because

he wants to duck and dodge your cold shoulder.

the end of the year is nearing winter,

what are you going to do about this lie

that this city has made you out to be?

and, i still wonder.

every photo should have a story. some sort of line tagged behind it. some thought. some something. whether it be a photo of a blank sheet of paper or a newly tarred parking lot. whether it be a photo of a million fish swimming in a neighborhood pool or a baby floating in the sky after being released from the hands of its father. every photo should have a story.

on first viewing this photo, you may not know what exactly to look for or at. but there is a man. who had just gotten off of work, i assume. his hands were coated in gray which looked like debris. as if he had been working hard in the field of construction. he was consuming his hamburger as if it were his last. and all the while, i starred at him. making certain that i avoided eye contact because i did not want him to catch my eyes prowling his every move. he was different. his eyes were wide. like his eyelashes had been taped to his eye lids, holding his eyes open. he was different.

i wanted to know his story. but instead, he, unknowingly, created a story within me of wonder. wondering where he came from. why he looked so stressed. what his hands were covered in. if he could release the tension that kept his eyes wide. if the bottle that he drank from was given to him by someone special or if he had earned it with his laboring hands. i don't know and the unsettling thing about it is that i may never know.

today is my brothers birthday. happy birthday, george. i need to write some things down.

one hundred-eighty nine.

filling in a gap.

he sat alone.

he said to himself,

"i feel like i am being

squeezed by the silence

of my own thoughts."

and he couldn't think much

about anything other than the

brief and incomplete conversation

he held with the clouds that

passed him by.

almost inexistent, he faded.

like the sun at dusk, he waited.

pouring out himself to the world, he fainted.

reminded of how round his little sisters eyes were.

how they grew wide when she heard him stutter

and from his mouth spilled the sound of ugly screams

that screeched to the top of his hollow lungs, he yelled

for the world to see that

it was difficult for him to be himself,

that it was difficult to be me.

time, traveling tonight.

it's been a while. and my mind is moving on heightened wavelengths and. i don't want to come down. it doesn't want to come down. at least not yet. everything is filled. everyday. every page. every. last. thing. in my life. is filled. and i can't say that i am not ok with it. i can say i am grateful. but it is different. the feeling of fillings in places that are so used to being empty is. different. and i'm not complaining. but it is different. playing tug of war with everything that presents itself to me. every feeling. every thought. every sight. figuratively. playing hookie with people that have faded when i died and was made new. i know what it means. i know what i mean. i pray that this season lasts longer than others. because others took advantage. this one is using care with handling. i am able to witness lives unravel before me. change in action, not in thought. a renewal of ones heart. a transformation of ones spirit. everything confusing has been and is being made clear. i just have to want to see these things clearly. it's funny. how a reflection can be someone you don't want to see. sometimes. it's unappealing. not just physically. but from every angle in which the physical and spiritual mirror reflects you. or me. it's necessary. reminds me of how imperfect i am. reminds me of how much i need God. life is moving constantly and there is no bus stop for me to get off and wait for it to get on when i choose to. i have to move with it. we have to travel with it. this Life. this new Life. as unpleasing as it may seem, it's all for the greater good. i see it. i see lives unraveling. i feel it.

• detox.
• rejoice always.
• know Whose i am.
• embrace seasonal sames.
• embrace seasonal changes.
• think fast.
• speak slow.
• pray that the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart are pleasing and acceptable in Your sight.

conversing with alternatives.

conversely, not all papers are worthy of a mind's voice.

one hundred-eighty eight.

the life that slightly lives.

i've allowed my responsibilities of the day

to slaughter one of the loves of my life

and i am desperate to know what the conditions

of haiti are - but so much debris has piled up

in my vicinity, i must wait to find out

anything.