Writing A Story
Writing a story is sharing a story. Which is why I feel every human being should be comfortably able to write any story of any kind so that one can share whatever story they'd like to. Whether it be fiction or non-fiction we all feel like when we have a story to tell, it needs to be told or written, and and by the way, sharing a non-fictional one can be so therapeutic ... let me share that!
Can you imagine getting paid for listening to anyone that needs to do just that ... share a true story of whatever. ... I'm gonna look into becoming a talk therapist.
Alone in my apartment, I hear the pitter-patter of a child's feet. I get out of bed and see nothing but hear the laughter of a child.
Time Is From Here To There
Even when you're sitting or standing still at home or anywhere that isn't a plane, train, or any other motor vehicle, bicycle, roller skate, or skateboard you're still moving from one spot towards another ... perpetually.
Time is just the Earth's spin and its orbit around the sun and its wobble. Our clocks and calendars are instruments that are in sync with these motions. But while falling through space we are getting old. That's our time. Getting old.
So in time (traveling through space) we slowly break down and die. That's what time is ... to me.
I Know Who I am
I know who I am
I ain't shit
All right, so what the fuck
Fuck all of yaw
Fuck my addiction
Fuck my anger
And fuck all of yaw again
This shit wack
Yaw all wack anyways
Why go back
Go back to that?!!?
Yaw clueless anyways
Clueless on all what YAW believe in
Go ahead and Believe in yaw self
And leave a nigga alone
I will forever be alone anyways.
We all are born alone and we all die alone.
Who Made Up Addiction?
Addiction. ... Addiction. It's a big word
It has a definition that weighs heavily.
Really heavy. Like really heavy.
And I have to hold it.
And I hold it on my shoulders like it's my fault.
While all of us humans are all addicted to something.
But if it's alcohol or illegal drugs.
Then something is really wrong.
When I go to the store.
I get lost in my mind.
And I don't know why.
Is it because I'm so caught up at home?
And I'm not alone mind you but still, feel alone.
And when I go outside I feel like more alive.
That's when that feeling of escape feels wrong.
That's when I begin to feel lost.
It feels like an escape from jail.
Am I wrong or is this actually normal?
And now I'm lost in thought.
Especially when heading back home comes with a twinge of pain.
Am I overreacting or like I feel is it something really real?
How far do I have to go to be alright
How far do I have to go to sleep good at night
I'm not too far I feel from where I'd like to be
But when I look afar still, as far as I can see
Nothing out there is reachable to me
But I continue forward though because I won't give up
I'll just suck it up and continue forward away from where I'm at
because I'm currently really unhappy of where I'm at
No matter how long it takes to get there I will keep trying
As far as that is I'm going to keep on walking and that is that
Alcohol. Not for the weak nor the lame but for the ones that need their feelings tamed.
It works as a crutch much too often and or as an ice-breaker among many other things.
I myself have gotten much too accustomed to it and I'm not sure if it's ravaging my insides already. But whatever I'll have another go at it. "Bartender, can I have another please?"
To Tame Life
Oh to be able to tame life it would be nice
It's too crazy and loud full of nonsense and too damn proud
Always looking to stand out in a crowd always thinking it's right
It spoils your sleep at night and keeps your chest feeling tight
If only I can talk some sense to it, I would be alright
I would not cry myself to sleep so often, life would be so much more pleasant
I remember pooping on myself while waiting my turn to play pickup basketball at the courts in the projects of NYC the Bronx. It was really a fart that turned into a mini poop. I thought it was just gas that needed to be passed. I quickly noticed that what I pass wasn't just gas but a tiny turd. I was a young teenager and I just got to the court with friends and refuse to go back home to change my draws so I stayed the course because the turd wasn't much wet or soft even!
Back then I was still wearing briefs that wrapped around your legs tight, not like boxers, so the tiny turd stayed within. I patiently waited my turn and soon was able to play. By that time the turd cooled off and throughout the game, I played and the thing I will never forget was a tiny cold turd in my draws bouncing all in and around my underwear messing with my concentration. To this day on rare occasions I'll still pass more than just gas. Sorry.