You are light itself;
you are blessed, you are blessing.
Peace always with you.

When I can't feel anything, I watch a sad movie or read the ending of sad books and sometimes I wonder why I do things to make me cry instead of laugh until I waste an hour and a half watching a comedy that isn't even funny to remember  that the easiest feeling to achieve is heartache. And maybe that's twisted but I don't even remember what twisted is because twisted is my normal.

Sometimes happiness takes place of the emptiness but once it's gone it's like stepping on something sharp on carpet and trying to find it. And that may sound odd because stepping on something sharp is painful but so is a happy person with an anxious mind knowing that in only a matter of time that sweet, warm feeling won't be there anymore.

If someone were to knock on my body, it'd be hollow and they would probably imagine it as cold and damp and decide that it's not worth their time. And maybe that's why I'm alone, because everyone is a little afraid of an abandoned house.

Space and the bright galaxy has always been my escape.
I’m not my own creator,
And the untamed monster
I make,
To be believable and harsh.
So kind hearted and fine art,
Renewable human cycle, my role model use to be Michael,
The way he moved,
Swift and light, is the exact same way I would move
In the bright space and galaxy;
Light and smooth
Marijuana and Corinthians;
My problems I soothe.
Last night I hugged and kissed the moon. It smoked my marijuana and
nodded
Its head with my groove.
You’ll think I’m delusional with a few loose screws,
But I feel perfectly normal,
For this on spare times is all I
Do.

      #Lord Knows


-Marci Henderson

We need to um talk about where
We're taking this thing.
How far we're gonna let this go.
We've been here before.
Its getting late.


Listen, I've already been thinking about you on my mind.
Far too often for you,
To be here at this time
You see, one hands on nine and the other's on my thigh.
Look,I already played with the idea of you
Being here in the mornin
And the position for the crack of dawn
And the conversation before the yawning
But aah, it's getting late.


How's about I let you touch the space.
That you left behind,
The day that you stop smiling
The day that the tears started falling
But now were talking, touching
Almost making sensual again
We can taste the familiar,
Cause, the family hour supports it.
Of this moment,but was led by the movements cause ah
It's getting late.


I see the memories we replayed
Same space face bodies
I know there's a method to your manliness
but ah I'm a afraid

The screams and terrors of unburied souls makes
It even more believable that the devil is in
Control.
The sleepless nights that one may live
Leaves it harder to escape and even more realer to
Feel.
But, why? Is always the number one question to be asked.
We’re living in color that leaves us like sardines that’s
Packed,
Together for a new war.
We’re supposed to be getting prepared but the sins is just
More distraction and controllable, our life changes from bad to
Horrible,
And you still wonder why God haven’t closed the
Portable.
Silly and easy to say, we’re becoming slaves, and buried in an open
Grave.
Say your prayers,
For God ears are always open, and our mouths are always
Frozen.
We penetrate into temptation and fantasize about dreams that’s
Hopeless.
Your words and my words together is respoken into an open
Chant,
And a revised message that screams loud like thunder and roars
Louder than a lion
Cry,
That leaves us under the devil control. Why is always the question,
And the word that ***** the life out of our body,
That leaves us lusted
And tempted again
To ask…
Why?





-Marci H.

My demonized spirit leaves me immortal and lyric.
It wakes me as a magician, but the cross on my chest
Bring me back to my senses,
‘Marci, you’re a Christian’
I have a problem and a plan. I was kicked out of forgiveness
That read
‘Marci, you’re banned’
My messed up head, with the bible on the stand
Made me to remember all the dirt on my hands,
The blood and revenge on my mind,
The fancy cars and clothes I want to shine leave me with a death wish
With my life on the
Line.
I’m unforgiven, and sick in the head. I’ve opened up a can of worms
That always leave me stuck in my bed, eyes wide open and stuck to the
Ceiling.
I’m the mass murderer who don’t give a f..K about livin’,
And that’s exactly why I’m unforgiven, and again as I say,
I am immortal, and the only thing I’m opening up
Is a new world
In a
Portal.




-Marci H.

White smoke
I slowly inhale
for I am in no rush to
make it to HELL.