there's a *** of water on the radiator
steaming up the windows
in my tiny bedroom -
the one in brooklyn -
where i was too poor to live in a place with a bedroom door

he's here, and he says he doesn't mind the curtain

there's anonymity in city life,
an ease to being completely alone
while surrounded by people

flush,
with the chill from outside
and the thought -
just the thought -
of his hands on my skin
his skin on my skin

simon and garfunkle on his old record player
sounds of new york
two people,
one bottle of whiskey
how strange to be with someone,
who can make you feel so alone

touch me, please

There are clouds to my right,
massive and grey,
they inch forward across the sky.
Beneath them a stationary sea of stone and cement.
Unmoving waves that’d swallow me if I dared leave my perch.
Around me are noises.
Epic echoes that lend themselves to imaginings of war zones.
In the distance I see flashes
Brief man made stars of red, white, and blue.

The clouds move in.
A silent rolling mass.
The temporary stars try to touch them.
Their lives are too short.

Shining down on me,
The moon smiles,
She knows what it’s like to be temporary.
To need the strength of others to shine.
To be born on path you can’t escape.
I don’t.

The star makers don’t.
The builders and sailors don’t.
We might think we do.
We think we do.

I glance behind me.
To beat up a room that is only ever filled with lonely nights.
To an apartment part of a tradition of temporary dwellers,
With a floor more ocean than the roofs around me will ever be.
New stars reach higher.
I see one peek out from behind a cloud.

My flatmates join me.
We watch the fireworks together.

She's the sweetest thing from down in Brooklyn,
Took my soul on a train ride,
Back to Upper West Side;

Her hair was like the Hudson Bay
Running off with my soul downstream,
Taking it back away -

She's like roses,
Daisies;
Perched upon Times Square;
Swaying in the November air

We have our dark days
Our stormy hours
Our bad minutes
But our love is power
Its the compromise
And the want to stay
When the love is real
Why not embrace a delay
No relationship is perfect
We argue
we fight
But just giving up so easy that won't make it right
at end of the day
I love you
So I'm gonna make it right
God put you in my life for a Reason


you are my Light

A girl was born in Bed–Stuy, Brooklyn on the 30th of June to a family of influence and wealth descending from the very man John C. Calhoun, himself

Lena Horne was a beautiful woman and soul; diversity radiated from her very essence from her spirit itself

Her racial heritage was a mix of African American, Native American, and European descent - family pride and honor came with her family name as the Horne was one of the First Families of Brooklyn

As raised and nurtured in a cosmopolitan sense, she was more than a pretty face and lovely name

The chanteuress was also a civil rights activist who fought for the rights of others, she denounced racism and fought injustice which unfortunately still exists

An epitome of style, elegance, and grace whose charms, bravery, and charisma will never be forgotten; she left an indelible mark in history

Known for her commanding presence, subtle dignity, and strength - she was a powerhouse in her own right

She graced this world with pride and strength; a rare soul and beautiful heart

May her legacy forever shine, cherish, and protect the future generations to follow

She will never be forgotten and always a light for coming tomorrows

Rest in Peace

How she sipped her spot's
The rough part was the plot
The diamond's and her lip's
Got spoiled
******* by fairytale scorched
The straight line skirt and how
it raced

Her in her brown-eyed lady
Porsche
His coffee the same place
So steamed her face didn't you
spot him
Bitter tone to be bad sweet
Taylor Swift pour some sugar

On Me
On U
In my singer's mouth
$$$

Southern Hospitality
"Going Gothic" south
Out Staged the bag-
Coach striped ride me the
Coffee prints heated up
her patterns Niagara falls
Wild me a seven-year inch
Hot Latte Slim and tall

I see sugar all over me
Italian cafe custom pinch
The sugar raw
He stirred harder
Robin's furry-breasted fly
creamy dark moon bolder

Big sigh roar, just sugar pour
A cat which alley City walk,
Racer's mouth Cheetah
could talk
What a ferocious love, cat flight.
Cat eye's beam @ night

He covered me, kitten gloves,
warmth gentleman
But, Strong Trump, politician,
handling, his
delegates. "Sugarly" mates
Sour lime Australian mates
They slipped, their milk on
the wrong ballot spilled

The coffee fusion
Drips and leaks Reddit
To the high beans warmly brown
mountain "Summit"
So spilled Nixon with lies 
 Water-gates how about Bill
Coffee gates
He spot's her don't sugar coat me
chill burr (Surprise)
Cheetah chasing him.

But trying so hard to erase him.
Sweet tooth Swift pour some sugar
lyric's  spooning through, Stir me up
Please milk the cow highly allergic
right now
  Silk spool of thread
"Cat's Meow"
Threadless caress nuanced
Did the cat's tongue meow
pronounced.

Overdose of sugar

The flag stripe's and spot's
Hanging so tightly to the carriage.
Not you're usual
Poison my sugar marriage

Smooth talker whole- bean
body notes.
Sugar stirs of states.
"Love 1/2 Grain
"Orient Express" she spoke
faster than
speeding train.
Computer crazed tiger Dad's
Sticky Carmela always latte late.
I have two I pads spotted coffee

Twin crib
Adam and Eve's rib.
My sugar scrub in the tub
Perk me up. finicky personalities
*** in the City Sugar theater.
He's the Kit and caboodle,
Earthtone candy.
He was born with sugar
right spoon,
Coffee King handy

College  Princeton NJ frat
How did  Brandy get into the mix
Brooklyn movie set this is all
about coffee fix

Starbucks
Howard Schultz
our friend from
Canarsie, Brooklyn
big win
He didn't come over
for coffee then?
Lol
Starbucks power suits' all stocks

A+ a good set of lungs
Robin-Carretti sings.
Read all about it!
Central Park, Carriage rider,
took her hand,
how he roared
Gave her million smiles
Starbucks**
Coffee business,
  With one coffee cup,
one sugar cube YouTube
what luck gazillion's

we are somewhere between maintaining the comic relief we find necessary to stay alive and inappropriately utilizing a coping mechanism during a time in which we are hyper aware of our own mortality. we're standing by freight cars and staring at the river, while a toddler races by on a tricycle. we know we are going to die someday.

it's a college party
even though i never finished and the rest of y'all are spending money you don't have on the ingredients necessary for homemade sangria so you can drink the crippling anxiety of not knowing how to pay off your student loans away

there's a man living in a tent in the backyard, and i'm pretty sure we put one too many pieces of scrap wood in that very-hard-to-maintain bonfire. that has to be a metaphor for the state of most of our lives. stop throwing things i'm unprepared for in what already feels like a situation that is going to **** me.

is this a literal housewarming

i'm drunk, and sitting on the deck, counting the christmas lights. i smell ****, and there are white people dancing and singing to blink 182 inside.

i paint my name on a drywall with a brush and canisters i find on my way to the living room, where i'm asked to referee a game of beer pong. i lose interest quickly.

i scroll through my phone, sober enough not to text you but drunk enough to desperately want to. someone sits down next to me because i've apparently become that person at the party.

i talk about rent with a guy who really wants to connect on the fact that we're both middle eastern, even though i'm not middle eastern. he smells like PBR and completely believes what he's saying. he says he's proud of me for following my dreams of coming to new york and that he likes my "crazy hair" and that he wants to **** me.

i raise my eyebrows, more in disgust than interest, but he then takes his perceived cue to shamelessly ask me if i have a ******. i don't, and i leave before he brainstorms any alternatives i am just as aversive to.

ironically, i find a ****** dispenser attached to a tree on the walk to the subway. considering the amount of catcalling i experienced on the way to the station, my level of discomfort is amplified by the fact that the neighbourhood literally, physically implies, ******* is going to happen in the streets. it's 2am, and i just want to go home. and i'm sitting on the J train, recalling everyone who's told me it's shady and unreliable and makes you feel like you're going to die.

a few months later, i am nicknamed J train.

Two
Six
Six
Two
If she read this,
She would know exactly what I mean.

Her ghost is all around me.
Her voice rings in my head.

Two.
Six.
Six.
Two.
Even though it seems our chance has passed,
I'll never forget her.