listening to the tune of the breeze she sings to me through needles and leaves nature's song can be seen in the trees when they sway with me to her beat of ease
i have to inhabit this planet of panic to stand among man and practice it's habits i can't understand this plan of the manic standing in line to be trampled by havoc
a mad dash to the racks and cabinets their drawn to a status as if it's a magnet pressed against glass, madly and frantic planning their route to the plastic gadgets
this series is about an alien from another planet, who is stuck on earth...this is how he might see things
Stop trying, You don't need to, I already ******* hate myself, I already scowl at the mirror, I already feel sick when I speak, You don't need to, Bury me in ****, When I've already dug my own grave, And laid in it.
and i don't know if this is me just overreacting, but the only reason it scares me when the wind causes my bedroom door to slam shut, is because i'm deeply afraid that i'll get used to the sound of people leaving.
I do not identify myself as a black american I do not identify myself as an activist I do not identify myself As anything other than what I am Do not arbitrate my existence It will only magnify your bigotry Do not lecture me It will not ratify your ministry Do not objectify my identity Do not marginalize my sincerity I know your criticism It will not dwindle me I am defiantly deaf to it It will not compute Trust me It will only intensify What I occupy Do not subject me to anomaly Do not try and direct me I will not comply Do not concern yourself with my essentiality I am not lost Do not concern yourself With what defines me Just ask If I am willing and able.