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each morning the light leaks through my bedroom,
beautifully caressing our sheets, the spots where we lay,
cherishing the creases where you rest your weary head,
i often catch myself leaning in to hold you close,
only to be without what always brought solace.
my dearest girl, i find you in the light,
maps intertwined with your smile,
and compasses in your embrace,
you are the calm after the storm,
you are the light that brings me home.
In a world filled with changes
each and every day..

I feel I'm being judged
for what I do and say..

I remember back to toys
and play days at the park..

When I didn't worry about
other people's remarks..

Now looking in the mirror
I see to my surprise..

A completely different person
staring in my eyes..

The carefree little boy
I saw at 4 and 5..

Is now becoming a teen..
Just trying to survive...
*Noone Can Judge You*
  Dec 2014 Astral Alien Babe
N
Open books with black covers containing stories never good enough to be read, words never long enough to contain the fragment of a thought. Maybe that's why I turn to putting my own in the complexity of poems, maybe that's why I'm never satisfied because I can never say what I mean. Sometimes I don't think you know what I mean, so if you haven't been able to read the between the lines; I miss you. I've been looking for so many ways to say it but none of them have been enough to make you come back. The thing about poetry is its never enough to make you feel the way I do. It'll never make you realize that ink seeps out of my pens with the purpose to make you feel something; but it never does. The thing about poetry is that you need to be empty to write it and that's why I learnt how to after you left. The shut door opened a new one which was the will to write about all the broken pieces of myself. The thing about poetry is it requires to see life through the eyes of things unspoken. Little do most know that mirrors and picture frames can speak novels of things forgotten which is me to you. The thing about poetry, is that I'm running out of things to say. I'm running out of words to spray on city walls, or carve in the wood of dying trees. The thing about poetry is that this isn't it. This is the goodbye, good luck. I have nothing more to bleed out for you, my mind is turning to dust. This is the last "I love you" I have left to write about, this is extended hands with empty palms.
This is the apology. It's me trying to feel something more than what I do, and as hard as I try to get there, I can swear that in nights of deafening silence I can still hear the sky screaming out your name.
Idk how I feel about this one
***** be burnin'
Reggae be movin' me hard
Smokin' dat dank herb
Boombastic
Always, will I love everyone and their insecurities

Unbreakable is my devotion to fill my life with as much love as possible

Real is my care and love for this universe

And I hope that others will learn to be this way
Why ban graffiti?

It is a creative art,
in a different form.

Art in the city
makes my eyes and mind at ease;
makes it full of life.

Street art is lovely.
Buildings look less indecent.

The streets look happy.
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