morning
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Audacity
Concrete painted the color of our scars red for the blood of every gangsta who died believing that defending a street corner was keeping it real for every nigga who wears degradation like it’s his first name every rebellion that hates nothing more than truth but a mirror prissy pink for every woman who… Continue reading
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The Early Morning Wake-Up Call
The calculated drip of the early morning, we wake to the resurrection of the senses; of sound and smell and want. Time longs for me, stretches its arms beyond reach it begs like a full glass tipping over that I must catch before the skies break into singing. We wake with fresh thoughts whistling new… Continue reading
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