letter to the night : child of the night I am not.
Letter to my parents..
    you could say and can say a lot about me but you cannot say I was never truthful to what you taught me, you can never ever say i went against anything you stood for.
A rebel I am, but with a cause.
You'd like me to be infront of you wallowing in whatever feeling consumes me at that moment, you want me infront of you but the girl you're seeing is not who she is, me sitting there and trying to make you happy while I slowly pull the trigger to the gun in my hand.

You know not what kills me but you spew demands about where I should or should not be. You don't know the cause of it all yet you persist on controlling a child you do not know. **** what the doctors say, you do not listen anyway, I am sick we know that, that's fine ? Why am I sick? Have you asked yourself that question ? No you have not yet you have the audacity to sit there and conjure up ideas about what I may or may not be doing. ASK ME , I will tell you the truth and nothing else but it.

You do not know me, seventeen years living and you do not know me. How do you feel about not knowing a thing about the child you birthed ? Tell me please because I'm sitting here , July fourth at 1:50 am trying to figure out who I am , tear stained eyes , hitching breaths, rocking back and forth and everything.
You do not know me.
You do not know me.
You do not know me.

Ask me who I am and on a journey we will embark, what lies ahead ? I hope you're ready.

letter to the night : child of the night I am not.
     she said ; " the problem with art is the artist "
     she said this and i began to think about how we as artists, myself as a poet, we tend to scribble words on paper, meaning one thing and then another and then everything and then nothing. we say things in a rather peculiar way and yet we yearn to be understood, when we ourselves cannot fathom what we've just let out into the world. i call this a cry for help..
      she said this and this made me think of all the letters titled " to the girl " as a poet i knew what i wanted to say, i had her reaction all planned out and ready when she couldn't understand, when her ability to respond failed her , i wrecked my brain and heart trying to find ways to get some sort of response reading in between lines that were not there at all.
Myself as the poet, i yearn to be understood because i myself do not...

    to the girl : bare with me, time is all i have. someday we'll sit back in our little bit of heaven and recall on all the ink stained papers and i will tell you all about how you had the ability to make created languages, codes , close to the morse than could not be understood by many.
    to the girl : whoever you are ? Someday you and i both will understand. the art will be deciphered and love will meet time and it'll be beautiful.

A friend of the night I am not connected to the moon I am not. morning used to to be my time but the pain felt ten fold in this pulsating vein tells me , I no longer am a child of the night seeking happiness under the moonlight.

She's miles away from me and we're stargazing together, this is why she's it. The nothingness may consume me but she has it beat, can help but let in the warm feeling into my heart, I love you and i never want this to end. Don't leave me ?

me, you and Hennessy.
me, you this Hennessy.
three different people, one night...
this one night...
I swear this is about to turn into a piece about how we three came together with these trees, lit..
you, me ..this Hennessy talking to me baby and I've been thinking about you.
right now I'm about to let this henny talk , see I've been watching you tonight.. this night, stargazing ....you me, falling for the moon..the stars.. baby this is where we are, me in between your legs, thighs rubbing on my neck , warmth on my ears.. This is me, you and where we're meant to be...together us three..


me you this Hennessy lets get acquainted, the henny speaks to me and I to you, you could call henny the wing because once Richard got that whiff he's never been able to say no to nights with you. Richard got a whiff, his fix, the aroma.. my god, blaspheme i apologise , speaking in tongue, my tongue in your ear, mouth, neck, *******, naval back to your *******, Richard lost track of time he has got to dip but still he stands at attention...minutes gone by forgetting the whiff he once caught, slowly going down, tying his shoes looking up to you on one knee, that whiff, your *****... he has to dip but watching you drip ? the henny, the devil on his shoulder whispered to him " devour her, eat at her soul, speak in tongues , spell her name with your tongue, make her see stars because under the stars, that's where it all began.. us stargazing , stars gazing , you dazing... daisies. day in day out you , me and this Hennessy ...pure bliss.