Month: June 2015

We all want to be found

As I see him sleeping,
So gracefully,

So full of his curiosity,

I wonder if my words resonated,

I want to know if he even cares to listen,

My friends say let it go,

He doesn’t care,

Yet my spirit says bring your healing 

hands to him, he might need them.

I don’t know.

That nebulous feeling of feeling 


Or not.

I’m not too sure, however I feel so lost 

when not in your presence.

To know this feeling is all you need.

It’s so forbidden,

It’s so unadulterated,

It’s so uncanny,

But in its inception, we both can’t deny

the feeling of wanting each other so 


That we do make paint dry,

We make the walls shake,

Look at me baby,

In my eyes is pure desire.

I want to satisfy you,

Please save me.

We all want to be found.

a table for two

Our inner refugees are temporarily free when we kissOne can only see.

Our embrace will identify that we can save the world. 

Or save ourselves.

The feeling of this drowning spirit I have waited a lifetime for,

your air feels so beautiful in all of my stable ways.

Two artists sharing a distant taste of ambiguity,

Yet finding congruency in one another. 

So paint my canvas and decorate it as you see fit,

indulge in us while we pay homage while the candles are lit.

my dad’s brush

This brush reminds me of some things about you,

How you’ll brush your wisdom towards the front and made sure all of our shoe laces were intrinsically tied, how you would brush the flem off of us when we cried.

This brush reminds me of all the times you came and showed up to save our emotional lives, as we were eternally dying and knowing naturally we weren’t born yet you held us so strong as a father would do anyway. 

Never reminding us we were different because you accepted the challenge to love us more than. Replacing the fatherless individuals who decided to give up on us. 

The pain would temporarily subside because you allowed us to live free and creatively get by.

This brush reminds me of the times you’ll allowed me to experiment on your hair line, as if you believe I was made up of magic and I could do anything if I put my mind to it.

Your subtlety brought joy in our lives while you enjoyed kids being innocent and let our imaginations run wild.

You never once interrupted that.

How we would imitate our favorite wrestlers moves and you’ll sit back and laugh at our noticeably novice groves.

You allowed us to be free. Free from the pain and heartache that occurred upstairs. You freed us from feeling dismayed when rejected by our own. You freed us dad there’s nothing more to say.

So every time I brush my own hair with the brush you used,

I feel like I’m still apart of you.I still feel the same spirits we both caught in church together, the same feeling of you allowing me to sleep on your shoulder when life became boring for me.

The same feeling when you cried and told me how much you love me as a daughter.

The same feeling when you showed up at my basketball game and the same feeling of infinity.

Infinite gestures to indicate through everything I always had you to rely on.

What a hard day to go through where this is the day you celebrate your father and I have no one to turn to.

I love you so much dad and this brush, the only piece of physical memory I have, reminds me of you.


The world is a terrorist attack

Yemen car bombings to charleston deadly shootings

Our black race is under fire since like forever

Chlorine attacks in no fly zones and who suffers is our children 

Man I wanna cry

Damn I wanna save lives

Fucking Dominican Republic mindset feel like they gotta ethnic cleanse
Why are you so conformed?

Instead of being informed?

Aren’t you aware you are ruining lives?
This world is a terrorist attack.

And we have to just sit and watch when you don’t have the power.

The shit is sad.


this flesh on my skin…. 

This flesh on my skin is the allure of the sins we digress to

Not to mention I’m fully aware

But his soft voice in my inner walls whisper gospels

The beauty of being found.

And I understand why we all feel lost 

You found everything you need
Yet you must suppress 

Yet you must digest 

But you must repress
That overwhelming feeling

we identify as love

Because options are invasive for him

Justifications are merely opinionated objections to let you know that “gem” isn’t mutual.
So you go back to your cubit corners 

to be as monotonous as you can

Because going outside of your own walls gets you nowhere

Or perhaps those walls are the unknown we didn’t realize existed.
See I’m just a girl searching for the truth.

And your lunar stages are all of my moons.

So I just want to be your orbit.
Seem my mind is blown when I found the reason why we live through our kiss.

So that flesh on my skin,

So chocolately and smooth,

That cold heart that touches mine when we take our clothes off,

Searching for our souls by each stroke we attempt to find the truth.

Searching for the answer by each hug we embrace ourselves in.
Yet we are dying of thirst.

We need to revive our past and the energy we placed our present in needs to be retrieved.  

That’s the essence of a glass of water.
But until then, we’ll figure it out.

Because this skin on my skin means I just relapse 

And I’m fully aware of it too…

In rotation 

Currently in rotation.You loving me and I’m loving him.

The wheels are turning, 

And nothing on it is getting reciprocated.

In this lifetime your not for me

In his life, I’m not for him.

Oh how these tables are turning,

Life is funny like this.

The same non reaction I give you

I receive it myself.

So in essence I feel your pain.

I just can’t be in your arms to console you.

There’s no chance for me to feel that empathy from the object of my affection.

So there you have it.

Emotions in rotation

Caring for those who don’t care back.

Not playing the cards we were dealt with,

Because we are too busy what hand the opponent has.

I’m starting to believe life is a game

The winner takes all

And while he wants to feel mine, I gracefully decline

Because I personally want to feel his heart beating next to mine.

But you personally want the same from someone else. 

The irony of this rotation.

We are all guilty of not settling for anything less than the best,

But the gamers play to win remember? 

I don’t write for sympathy. 

Kindred souls. My sentiments exactly.


To some my writing is beautiful.
To others heartbreaking.
Most don’t understand.
Those who do, I am willing to paint my language on the walls of your empty hands.

My story is one that I believe my mind has been dying to tell.
I write what I feel, never expect anything less from me.
Two souls.
Two hearts.
One mind.
I am married to the truth, and in the process of divorcing denial.
-Lily P. McLaughlin.

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