And I learned that I should watch my mouth
Inspect the words I blurt out before they come about
Manifest into knives and cut the feelings of the listener
******* off as a natural born sinner
The friends become thinner as I manage to cut ties with my own teeth
I beat my brain and cheeks with suffering secondhand
I give birth to the bad but refuse to raise it.
-zaba

HEY!
Who wants to know a secret?
Like, a really good secret
Juicier than a ripe nectarine
Heavier than a one-thousand pound weight
Scarier than your stepdad on Easter Sunday
Funnier than Kevin Hart in Madison Square Garden
Who wants to know a secret?
Deeper than the ******* Pacific Ocean?
Softer than your nephew's skin
Lovelier than your lover's touch?
Wetter than your 3 am tears?
I have a secret.
It's better than the best chocolate you've ever tasted
Slower than the traffic in Manhattan
Sadder than summertime
Sexier than the girl of your dreams.
Let me tell you a secret.
-zaba

Let's get to know each other
I'm just as lost and apathetic as you.
Someone said I have to make friends with me
Before I made friends with others.
But you got to start somewhere
So, how are you?

Live life like death is just an idea.
To scribble down the pros and cons of your very existence.
To love like hate is a common ancestor for all of us mortals.
To dance with feet that jump around as if they were on hot sand.
I loved life with the perverted joy of Venus' moons.
I hated death with the white hot heat of one thousand suns.
I didn't mind the cold burn of the tiled bathroom floor each morning
Or the stuffy humidity of my old car.
I just wanted life.
I just wanted warmth.
I just wanted to learn
How to: live life like death is just an idea.

Let's hear it.
Let's embrace the ugly.
I mean, considering it ugly is an opinion.
I'm sorry, I just breathe really loud when I get excited.
I feel like I'm waiting for something.
Something I've anticipated for.
Prayed for.
Cried for.
I think God is smiling at me.
Whether it's out of pride or mockery, I do not know.
But I am loving it.
I can feel my happiness behind my tongue.
I can smell my eagerness.
Some say it's a weakness.
But I am loving it.
At around 4 am, I heard thunder clap.
Ha, God has such a funny laugh.
I told Him I was excited for whatever he had in tow.
It started to rain.
Tears of joy.
I remained thankful even though nothing came.
I asked God for a sign that would indicate my luckiness.
I didn't see a thing.
So I kneeled down and said thank you.

Is that a frown I put upon your face child?
As I tried to soothe the sadness that smiled on your inside
That festered like pathogens inside your heart
Is that your index finger?
Sitting inquisitively on your lip?
I see the distraction in your whirlpools of corneas
Your hair lays insecurely on your shoulder blades
Let me console you with a joke
Pacify your placidity with these sad bars
You pick up your phone.
You read your texts.
Oh?
Is that a smile I put upon your face, child?
-zaba

I wonder if I even give a **** about myself
If I love my health or love the idea of loving them more
Whether the bottles are red capped or full of liquor that's brown
I feel so much warmer on the inside when it's around
I wonder if the heredity is getting the best of me
Because you see since I began it seems my father has resumed
You think the possibility of being alike is adorable
But in my case it's deplorable
To my wellbeing it isn't affordable
But I can't make that budget cut to my psyche
I'd rather buy a bottle of Bourbon than some new Nikes
Is it likely that maybe insecurities fall into obscurity when I'm being loved by all of my impurities?
That I'm hating on the **** that I'm making because my sober mind is murdering all of my thoughts?
I'm undertaking
Putting pressure upon my person to see no one's gonna feel pity when you're in the streets
Find a way
Find the time
Dance around
Write a rhyme
Do whatever you can to **** some time and distract your brain from saying liquor will keep you in your prime
-zaba

Yes, baby.
Oh, baby.
No, baby.
Do it, baby.
Yes baby.

He nearly ripped my throat out just to prove his point.
The bleeding thumbs of an angry boy can be tasted on my tongue at 11 pm.
His desire lies in between his toes and his malice in between his teeth.
He screams to a God he'll never praise and kisses a father he'll never love.
The sound of the air blowing between my teeth, however, shut him the **** up.
Shhh.
I have a project for you.
It involves you losing your victimizing nature.
Dropping your entitlement.
Opening your baby browns.
And listening.
Your sweat will never taste sweet until you love yourself like you loved her.
Your legs will stumble on their insecurities until you dance in your impurities.
Your vengeance is futile and will only make you avoided.
I can scream too.
You want to scream?
Scream with me.
But don't say I didn't help you.
Don't say I didn't try.
Don't act like the blisters and welts on your tan skin are from my fire.
You want blood?
I got plenty.
I'll jump rope with your esophagus.
Play dress up in your epidermis.
Understand your motives and thoughts better than Lauryn Hill.
But you can't assume anymore.
You can't believe that I fall to my knees because you make me weak.
That's not the case.
I don't need you like you need me.
Oh, please.

Let me ask the question that I've wondered for what seems like centuries.
Let me know.
What exactly is the ******* point?
What drives you to turn emotional "love"
Into physical "love"?
I have been constantly dissatisfied.
Endlessly unamused.
Forever jaded.
To the point that I can't imagine the notion of this ******* being even minutely beautiful.
Or even worthy of being the median of which love is concocted.
**** it.
I don't want to understand.

Your pessimism is poisonous
Your apathy a drug
That I inject into my eyeballs
And try to call it love
I hate the way you frown at me
When you smile at your friends
Your curly hair is a bouncing castle
I can't wait for your empire's end
I try to wallow in your silence
Love you in your wall of hate
When you're sad because your boyfriend left
In a tirade of hate
I cry crystals of despondence
As you whistle your world away
I try to love you from the outside
And when I go in, you don't let me stay
I feel you text me just to pacify me
To hold in my cries and ratify the inappropriate banter that I'm scribbling
My fingers in your body as we're both fiddling
Diddling in your causes of danger and your mind is the manger
Where the savior refuses to lay his head
You must not be in the mood for anybody or anything
I'm just a sad little girl, there's only trouble I will bring
The ways in which you want me seem to change like the weather
Something in my head says I want us to be together
But i recall how temporary your intricate happiness is
But it all becomes irrelevant when I'm near your warm skin
-zaba