You know what?
You know what? Do you know what? What is the why you are here. Why are you that? That is the what that got you here. Where, at what point will you finally want to be there. There is a point at which you will get what. The what which you get will ultimately get you the that which that was where you already were.
Grocery list.
Salmon
T-bone steak
Asparagus
Flowers
Watermelon
Pistachio pudding
Milk
Fingerling potatoes
Squash
Rosemary
Sage
Thyme
Salt
Pepper
Garlic Powder
Onion Powder
Onion Raw
Garlic Raw
Chives/Scallions
Shallots
Olive Oil
Foccacia Bread
Chianti and/or Whiskey
Candles
Sandlewood
Kindling
Logs
Fire
Blanket
Stars
Trees
Moon
Ocean
Hope
Dream
Love
Complete.
I’m history.
I'm not white, I'm olive. I'm peach, I'm rose, I'm sunburnt, I'm flesh, I'm skin. I'm bones, I'm soul, I'm history.
“iiii, my friends call me Brent”.
For the past 34 years, I've been in the process of recycling a name that was given to me on a playground. In my twentys I ran from the moniker, with it two steps behind me, clutching forward at me in attempt to draw me back/to the I am. Early in my late twentys I finally embraced my brand, and have since embraced a once younger derogatory term, now empowers me. I have built a foundation on my vernerabilites. I have achieved strength through before perceived weakness.
The rest
I've always thought that I had to be doing something all the time unless I was sleeping, because if you're not doing something all the time then you're not making history. I realized; history dictates that without ample rest, the many lack the proper progressive alertness to complete even a minimal list of deemed simple tasks. Sleep soundly, dream historically. Wake and make something worth a thought about the reasons why you shouldn't be dead already. "Live or die?" is not a difficult question if you're reading this. We survive everything that doesn't kill us.
Sticky sweet, and panicked flushed cheeks.
Bloody red, and cotton candy blue.
Rushed like wind.
Rushed like wind into sex, no regrets, no longer lovers, no longer friends. I love you, no lie. I don't see it where we have kids, and I don't just want to be your friend. Somethings are a waste to even entertain an energy to think what couldve been. Sometimes shit just happens for no reason what so ever again, and again.