#gucci
He lay there in a ***** unkept ball,
Having surrendered to the pavement.
Wisps of stringy brown hair
Covered the lines on his sunken in face,
His yellow smoked eyes, rheumy and blurred,
His vision hazy, like a punch-drunk boxer.
Kathleen Harmon sashayed by
With nary a glace downward.
Once they were equals,
When they sat together
During high school Chemistry.
Time slowed from a Tango to a Waltz,
As a drop of saliva
Kissed the pavement.
Stringing there from his cracked, parted lips.
His tangled brown whiskers,
Patchy on his cheeks,
Had lengthened with the passing days
Since their last meeting with a razor.
Nikes, Prada, and Gucci
Ignore him in passing
All sports, fashion, and business meetings;
On the clock, and self-absorbed.
Dusk marked the sky
With a violet crayon
Worn to a nub,
Then worn to nothing.
A sudden thud startled him awake!
Then blackened hardwood stunned him as it bit into his ribs!
A caustic voice berated his slumber,
A navy blue reminder that even surrender was no escape.
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 8:23 PM UTC
he got the
Gucci flops
Supreme top
Balenciaga bag
Hermes chain
Chanel sunglasses
Louis Vuitton jacket
Rolex on his wrist
he looks A-list
but does he have a heart?
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
I stand here in the city.
The tall buildings tower over me,
And the wind cascades around me.
The children and people wear fur coats.
I wear Gucci.
They smell like whiskey and cigarettes,
But I pay no attention.
I see the lights that the city visions,
I hear the cries that the city screams.
It was perfect.
Because I was here amongst the skyscrapers,
And within the atmosphere of life.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 5:36 AM UTC
the sun rises every morning,
blessing the earth with another day.
the moon shines at night,
watching over us as we lay at rest.
the stars give us our dreams,
despite being millions of miles away.
they shoot, we wish upon them
and they smile down at us.
heaven is above us,
but hell's fire is what fuels us.
we run on sleepless slumber and we
keep fighting with broken swords.
we breathe until we no longer can,
our lungs heaving with the hope that we will
survive another day because we're human
and we were crafted to survive.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 5:45 PM UTC
demons demons
paint my nails!
bite it off
when all else fails!
slipped into hell + ran away home
whats under your bed when you're all alone?
***** socks and
soured thoughts ~
had a garden
(let it rot)
prayed to God my man would wake
her soul and Gucci bag to take
surfing in my Prada's
running in my Louis's
Giving second chances
Like ya never even knew me
Tigers in the living room,
go on ask whats up!
clawing up my velvet couch
Kiss and patch it up!
melt my brain n lick it up
I write about him daily
chew it up and spit it out
been thinking bout you lately
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 7:11 PM UTC
Her dreams are packed suitcases,
sitting on the driveway,
a piece of cloth sticking out,
ready to be unfolded and opened,
and then carried around.
I miss her
like how Americans
will miss the Obama family.
Touching her lips with my fingertips
is like rubbing healing ointment
onto an open scab.
Mom says, “You will always regret it,
if you don’t send her a text back.”
I dump my phone into the fire,
watch the plastic and metal burn,
the embers and ash piling up.
A black hand reaches for my shoulder,
before I wake up in a cold sweat.
I open up her suitcases:
a blue Grand Canyon blanket,
a laminated receipt
from a Sushi Restaurant,
a deflated basketball,
her knockoff Gucci glasses,
a worn piece of my heart.
I touch my chest.
and I feel nothing there.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC