Haven't eaten in two days
Put it on blast
Im fasting on keys
This white girl keeps harrasing me
Lowkey i hate what its turned poor Ashley
Didnt mean to become what i said i wouldn't
Made fun of the ones who couldn't
Now i tell myself i shouldn't
But beg her to please shoot it
Highkey i love the ride it provides
Indulge my soul let it slip inside
No pain to when i puncture but i lie
Remind myself why
Then who
To where did i met and looked into her eyes
I sit there and conversate with the love of my life i guess im not straight lesbian crush on Crissy shes always on my mind and ill **** with her till the day i stop dreaming
Till the day i stop puffing and heaving
Basically stop breathing
My holy trinity

Somehow when she says "I love you" I picture her there,
Lying with the cosmos,
Pure bliss,
That same smile on her liqour lips

When she sings I get lost in a haze,
I feel the vibrations,
Hear her laughter in the sound waves,
I think if things are no different
Things would be no different.


Liquid love,
In one form or another,
Im pretty sure at this point shes a professional,
Shes got it down to a science precise down to the decimal,
Spite without a bite cant **** a toothless animal.

feeling kind of fruity
touch your skin up and down
kind of silly funny
breathing waving fanning
panting pajamas on the floor
*** and then talking about pokemon
and programming all at the same time
what a helluva time to keep the tumor
of existence lowkey

scooping blood instead of depression
out of my heart whenever i check
why im feeling so giddy

Baby, you got me spinning in outer space.
Baby, I’m digging your tasteful flavor.
You are stimulating my soul
with your flexing flow.
I’m feeling your growth.
Baby, you are making me glow.
I must admit that I’m lowkey loving you,
hoping that you will grow to love me too.

Baby, let’s take this thing to the next level.
Baby, I’m ready to settle in your space shuttle.
We can cuddle and create amazing chemistry together.
You can place your hands on my thighs
as we kiss and let the scene steam
and rise into a flaming ******.
Baby, I want to feel all your moves.
Please get into the groove.
We can soothe each other
and escape into nirvana.

Baby boy, let me explore your splendor.
Baby boy, let me seep into your poetic sweetness.
I’m so eager to tease your physique.
Give me a hot beat, and I’ll rock you nonstop.
I’ll be in your heart and finesse your flesh without pausing.
Let’s crash into splashing seas of passion.
Let the magic elevate to the max.
Let me come and collect your treasure.
Let me *** your intellect.
Baby, just relax and let me handle the rest.

Someone send me fifty cigarettes.
Keep me awake far past sunset.
Get the football on immediately
And make it a fiery affair.
Drown out this mop and bucket mouth.
Find me a guitar string to silence a theatre.
Strum all the chords in unison.
Whisper powerfully into the crowd's ear
About the journey to solar eclipse bliss.
Ignore the scattered failures,
Stamps on lamp-posts,
Brash stickers of the past,
Cornered in all that success.
Distraction from the looming task ahead.
Let the teaming rain return to my brain,
Where pie survives in cement,
Jackdaws squawk and talk of walks
Across the kissing couple hills
Instead of pizza orders set for ten.
Counting stock with matching socks.
Clocks are the enemy these days.
But they may be my best friend.

House party no contact
No glasses no lenses
Isolation got no facts
Rich in hope like them benz's

Old as **** like a bold fax
Reminiscin past tenses
Action done by the fences
Have I come I to my senses?

Need to know, ask for a census
Need my own vote call for elections
Lowkey mind-broke, I need a pension
Need to think about all this affection

****..

World cold stone cold
Was told It would be like this
Aint listened to them so I fold
Now I see myself down this own road.

The me everybody used to see, erode
The me anybody could be, be sold
Sadness pull up to my corners, be shown
The one who blew y'all away be blown

Everybody leavin faster than I can say hello
People in this world so shaky like a tremolo.
People don't come and go no more.
You just save up and they go forth.

At least that's my reality
Maybe I am insanity
No sleep till 2 am
You see it visually
Can't rest till these thoughts are at ease.

Life fallin faster than dominos
This time aint as good as pizza
Not even close rate negative 10 toes
No feelings like terminator hasta la vista.

Seen a lot like a barista
More people snakes than cheetah's
Venomous like cobras.
Sad **** I got into.
Me, myself and my sorry ***.

I had a seventh grader tell me, when I was in 5th grade, that things go downhill after 5th grade - that life doesn’t get better, it just gets more complicated. I’ve had years to mull that over and I have to say that in some ways his testimony was on beat.

As we start the second half of sophomore fall semester, I think I’ve reached stability and I’m accustomed to this year’s schedule and workload. I haven’t surveyed whether I’m faster or slower in this (see below), but now I know all the tricks - where to eat, which paths to take and what to carry. I have a firm rhythm that’s consistent and insistent.
“I’m finally on my schedule.” I commented to Sunny yesterday morning as we collided in our dash to get our shoes on.
She looked at me in confusion “You know we’re on week 8 out of 15, Ya?”
I was shocked, “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I admitted as we stepped out.

It’s midnight and we’re going (Peter, Lisa, Sophie and I) to “My ****” tonight (the dorm basement snack-bar). I took two seconds to splash my face with water and twist-back my hair. “How do I look?” I asked Peter.
“You’re attractive.. enough,” he said, “..I mean you fall within a bell curve.”
“You're almost 40,” I say, in the face of his non-complement.
“I’m 26,” Peter said, “You know it, and I have proof. You DO have some good points though,” he granted, while trying to drape his great, hairy, gorilla-like arm on me, “there’s your sparkling conversation and nice underwear.”
“I donated those to goodwill,” I lied, while giving him a half-gentle stiff-arm.
“You remind me of my parents,” Sophie says.

The tea (the best tea is scandalous). Lisa’s friend Baker dashed back to her room between classes yesterday. She’d forgotten the big paper she had to turn-in. It was a mad dash and passing a roommate’s open door, she realized that the girl was lowkey *******. Lisa, delighted to be an interlocutor in the matter, due to Baker’s overplus embarrassment, Lisa's trying to suggest next steps in a post-shock protocol.

1) (insert dessert name for skin here)
2) mysterious hair goddesses
3) the back wall of a hip hop video
4) temptresses of your own design
5) the entire land ruled by drama queens
6) your lowkey fantasy
7) your direct blame
8) the subset of a subset of a stereotype
9) the loud and proud
10) the celestial bodies walking through your neighborhoods
11) the only magic act you can see again and again and still not know how it works
12) not the Madea or the Precious, but somehow still the Madea and the Precious
13) trees banding together for the sake of their own leaves AND to sustain the forest

**~~a.s.f.

Leong dreamt of meeting Jesus,
at the Koffee coffee shop.
It was early and not too busy,
so they had a chance to talk.

He was well dressed and looked quite nordic,
which was a surprise to her at first.
“Because we all know he was born in China
and Beijing the city of his birth”

At first, he kept it casual,
he talked a lot about his dad,
but he began to be rather judgey,
as some religious people can.

When he asked her for her digits,
she was put off by his entitled vibe.
In the end he got fake-numbered.

“It was a lowkey way to decline,
and both pacify the “boss’” son,
and keep him on her side.”

got poetry to show to my friends but im thinking of deleting my twitter
my thoughts aren't as cool as I wish they could be, so bookmark my HP page for the updates
the summer is chillin and im going places my mom doesn't want me to go to
just because a place brings back bad memories doesn't mean I shouldn't be there
Im past all of the stupidness and accepted my foolishness, no need for the reminders my ego is drowning
my link on my insta no need for tweeting my emotions my tumblr is boring but so are your hobbies
im writing for some dollars for more pencils, im running out of them
i got some money but thats for anything that comes coincidently coincidence
no need for some pens because I cant erase mistakes with them
nhom site under construction so give us a few weekends our weeks are productive we hustle until we get it **** what you're doing
there isn't any way but the need way so excuse your missing bikes, we're 16 and we're foolin
we order pizza and write down ideas no time for galleria
we ride for adventure on two weels
interacting for promo no need for hiding behind some screens
my life is a run on but thats how it should be no time for breaks, sleep is an option lead is necessary
rooftops capture sentences paintings illustrate our visions
if you dont contact me then why should I
I should be humble but my account has 4 zeros, my mom dont trust me with it so I dont know the pasword
That child support is piling up, I dont really care
got miles on miles on miles on miles on miles ridden on my bike but I haven't gone anywhere but the city
Im aiming for the carpet so when we go back to school I'm bringing my summer
Got numbers as options but there's no reason to hit them up, got a good one I'm grateful
I'm riding fast my way don't slow me down, is this a comeup? I don't know I'm just going along
Come up from suburbs, I want to live high until my view is the moutains
Im from Dallas but that don't mean nothing, no city defining where I'm going because I was on the 26th floor when I was at my lowest and I wasn't even on coke
these days my grind is so lowkey, im sleep deprived
my paint never dries, my brushes are always getting washed but these projects aren't for the public
I only have a few questions, is love really real? should I sleep more?
i dont know but Monarch dr is gonna be in a book one day

keep it lowkey
we speak separate no lips
treasure spelled question baring finger tips
slips **** crisp nips
no *****
or ***** in the whips
while im in the slit fits
i try to miss ten prints and thin flints like flavored sin mints
like take one before you commence this, well he said pre tense
like post ***
no matter how slow
or if you are driving drunk
in control

(the birth of Christ - in Gen-Z slang)

Mary and Joseph were tight-ship.
Mary was a real-one, and no clout-chaser

One night Angel Gabriel overstreeted with word
that Cap-G made Mary chabby with soup-baby
Mary was shook and big-mad but Joseph
was baby-goggles for Cap-G’s quinlan fetus

so Mary was “okrrrrrrrrr”

A minute later Mary and Joe had to roll deep,
adulting to Bethlehem with tribute to Augustus,
the main character, but no mo-mo swerved em’
ghetto and asan Mary was Cap-G’s baby-mama!

Later these bchaps rfts biters brang Cap-J
some bag and herb to extra flex for Cap-G
while angels lay in the cut with lowkey bop.

———————- translation


Mary and Joseph were married and in love.
Mary was an average girl not into notoriety
.
One night Angel Gabriel appeared and said
that God made Mary pregnant with his child
Mary was shaken-up and and angry but Joseph
Was excited for them to have God’s beautiful child

so Mary was had no choice but to say “OK”

Months later Mary and Joe had to travel far together,
As citizens, to Bethlehem to pay taxes to Augustus (Caesar).
Emperor of rome, but a lack of motels caused them to
Stay in a manger and there Mary had God’s child.

Later these rich star followers brought Jesus
some money and herb as gifts to impress God
while angels gathered and sang to comfort the child.

on this paper confesses my pen
about my love for you on these hands - your protection has secured my mind,
your permanent place of bullying me
your affection has tormented me
to never escape these exit wounds
your love has boundaries
to either enter a beautiful nightmare
or arrive in a darkened reality
i hope you reach and mend my fragile heart
take my hand and i'll show you around the world
and i'm sure your beauty would
make a rush hour stand still
like the globe does
where your floral securities blend
with my lowkey subtlety
creation becomes our very own nature
infatuation is nothin' new to your flaws
radiance and ambiance
to thee verse i preach of your soul
when a goddess is walkin' down
the streets of love
allow me to be yours and yours alone.

I'm getting mad and sad all at once.

Is that allowed.

Memory is like a tornado these days.

All I want is a cat.

I’m chilling and doing homework tonight. Leaning into it.

Last night one of our suitemates (Julia) turned 21 - she’s barable. Not that we get carded anywhere - I’ve never had trouble getting into clubs or ordering drinks - I mean never have I ever.

She had her birthday party at a place called Mory’s, in New Haven, which is very Yale themed. We ate dinner in the “captain’s room,” where every picture on the wall is a Yale team captain of some sort. They even have a whiffenpoof plaque. It’s so Yale-core it’s funny.

Have you ever heard of a drink called a “Singapore Sling?” Me neither, until last night. Then, somehow, there were undrinkable oceans of it. I had six of them, sitting at a bar and I felt nothing. Then I stood up and my bones seemed to liquify. Leong and Anna reeled me in.

I was hangin this morning though, I mean rocky-socks drunkover. My senses seemed sharper, my optical nerves dialed up all the way. The air seemed bright and I swear I could’ve heard the sun burning if people would’ve just stopped all that annoying breathing.

I had a biochemistry quiz at 9am and I can’t wait to see how I did. Later, at breakfast (I had a piece of toast), Peter felt free to offer his sensible, 26-year-old, bropinion. I said, “You’re so wise,” as I steel-eyed him, “I-guess-you-never.”

By the afternoon I was back on my toes. Almost every night my roommates and I sit around a low table in the common room of our suite, crossed legged, on cushions and do our homework. It’s less claustrophobic than sitting in our rooms alone and we usually have some music on, lowkey, in the background.
We’d just heard “Love Story,” by Taylor Swift.

“I like songs that make love sound easy.” I stated.
“Oh, because it IS easy,” Anna says sarcastically, “grab yourself a physicist and make a TikTok song.”

“Hey! I’ve got a beef with TikTok artists, I said. “At first, they release these stripped down, intimate, acoustic songs that feel personal, and then, if a song hits, they put out a new version that’s totally overproduced.”
“Right.” Leong agreed.  
“Oh, yeah,” Sophie said, putting her hair back out of her face with a comb, “and some artists' voices are suited to simple accompaniment and the newer versions just don’t hit as hard.”

“I think Phoebe Bridgers is an example of production done right.” Anna said. “Her material continues to sound intimate and stripped down even though it’s no longer just her and a guitar,”

“On Tiktok,” Lisa adds, “when a new song works, I feel a connection, like it could be me recording a song with my guitar - so, I support them.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I updogged, “there’s a place for overproduction but sometimes the instruments don’t even sound real, like when they go all out electronic - then they lose me.”

“The big-music might drown-out the artistry we liked,” Anna opined, “but maybe that’s how they heard it, as songwriters, in their imagination, but they couldn’t afford it - the new version rectifies it.”

Dude i have no clue
no ******* idea...
why i continue to fantasize about chue....
idk...
what is it...
like 8th grade...
you...
the memory
continues...
after these past 2 years i still fantasize about you
....and i cant picture you accepting me...
for who i am
i can't
....like
when i picture you
...like i have to be o some mila kunis, megan fox, kim k typa ****...
its like i have to be this trophy in order to keep attention
...its like i knew you liked me
....and it was an interesting attatchment ill say....
but...
i guess it wasnt meant to be
i was looking for a **** buddy back then
and so were you
we were 8th ******* graders
i was immature af....
i didnt know **** tbh...
i was an air head...
who only cared about boys, popularity, friends, and herself...
i was a ***** lowkey
i wanted to be on top...
of the world
...of that school
...of him lol
but i was on the inside
...insecure
but he made me...
he fooled me
..into thinking he was securing me
....like ****
i was a fool
and i was def crushin on em
but now....
its really embarassing to think about
like....****
***
was 8th...the ****
ya know
that whole shabang
was really messin up
and im done with that past
pretending...
insecurity..
attention..
like....
i am over that
you were real to at the time
i was insecure looking for someone to clench on to
keep me up
motivate me
....but you did the opposite
you were like a demon in disguise
...no offense
i mean at the time speaking
but i dont want to cringe...
when i see a pretty *** girl
i dont need to pretend to be "pretty"
nor what you want
nor be that *****
because im not
...im so much more
....like....****
im done living a life in the shadows
a hidden life
my life...is what is what it is
take it...
leave it
i dont care
you are gone
im never gonna see you ever again
but i mean im sorry we couldnt be friends
but the tide
the flows gotta flow
ive gotta go
take ****
and ill keep it in the toilet...lets say that

Pulling at opposite ends of a rope
we put in our best effort
we both won the contest, darling.
and bragged of our power.
I have nothing left at this hour
Except for a rope around my neck
made out of your honeyed voice
confessing love over and over again
Alas! choking is not much of a choice
a dancing derelict dream in my eyes
along with each cell in my heart dies
Poor wretched foolish ghost of mine
now revolves around your house
like a twitching old mouse
to make sure you drink your tea
Every afternoon, but you
Still, unbothered and lowkey
As if the wind took away some dust
off street
And I, gone, with bones and meat.

We stayed lowkey
Working in silence
Perfecting our goals
Never closing our eyelids.

We were legends in the making
All about real ****.
With some of our innocence for the taken...
We laid down the blueprints.

We stayed lowkey.


-LDP

I was seven years old
When my dad broke my heart.
He said he would move away
But we would never be truly apart.

I waited, and waited...
Sometimes in the  intense heat, or snow
But only with age I learned
That my dad would never show.

One day I got tired of waiting
and stopped watching the road.
My heart hardened a bit though mom
Still thought it was made of gold.

I guess at this point was when
I started to lowkey hate men.
Never have one kept his word to me
Not josh, nor Caleb. Not Keith, nor Ben.

All my relationships fail,
I leave them before they leave me.
It hurts less you know?
When you know you hold the key.

So at 20 years this where I am at.
And this is why I write.
It takes the pain away you see,
Some, but not much.

its 1am and I’m sitting here
scratching my face
lowkey hating the way I look
and when I look in the mirror I wish I could see what you see in me

I have this unusual admiration for things, let me tell you some of it.

There's something beautiful when I look at the dark clouds even though I know that it signals a heavy fall or rain, I don't care.

I know most of you love the sunset,  and I do too,  but have you ever realized that what it means is that we've survived another day but there's the uncertainty if tomorrow we'll still do? You see, everytime I look at the sky, how it perfectly paints all these combination of colors at twilight, "tomorrow,  will i still be able to see it? " is the question on my mind.  But still, I love every single moment it.  

I lowkey like how the trees looked if there's only branches on it, lowkey because im a Landscape Architecture student and unless that tree is deciduous it's obviously dying. We don't want that. But with the way their branches stood up at the sky, without its leaves but still trying to survive, somehow, something about it is beautiful.  

I've never seen a tsunami,  but I've always imagine,  it's a nice scenery when before it hits,  the wave rushes opposite the coast, uncovering parts of the underwater , revealing its hidden beauty, even though I know that only minutes, or maybe even just seconds away, the destruction it'll bring awaits.

All my life, the stars at night never failed to amuse me, but they don't guarantee you that they'll be shining up there all the time,  I always feel disappointed when I look up and found nothing but vast darkness.  

You see, I have this unusual admiration for things,  and there's still so many which i find beautiful yet whose beauty only brings unwanted outcomes,  

And now I am afraid,


I found something beautiful in you and it scares me.

Leong's watching TikTok on her laptop (as always) and she asks Lisa (a NYC girl) “Are you familiar with the the “downtown girl” aesthetic?”
Lisa’s dismissive, “Yeah, it just looks like Urban Outfitters grunge to me.”
Leong explains, “It includes headphones and it’s supposed to be a Lower Manhattan style.”
“Yeah,” Lisa snorts, “Because Greenwich Village and the Lower East Side are SO cohesive.”

Lisa considers herself an Uptown girl (like the song) even though 59th Street, where she lives, is the border between Uptown and Midtown Manhattan. I’m learning that these distinctions are culturally key to New Yorkers.

“And,” Lisa adds, “why would someone wear, and lug around, giant, clunky headphones when you can use AirPods??”
“Amen sister.” I proclaim and even Leong nods in agreement.

“Later, Sunny, Leong and I are on a study break, eating salads and talking about who we hope Yale invites to the next “Spring Fling” concert. We aren’t being realistic; we’re covering who we wish would come. I’d named Charlie Puth, “Kat-Tun!” Leong squealed (A Japanese boy band - apparently Chinese girls LOVE their boybands) and Sunny countered with Ed Sheeran.

“I don’t like Ed Sheeran,” I mumbled, making a yuck-face.
“Why no Ed?” Sunny gasps with shock (She’s a big Ed fangirl).
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “he’s a star by all measurable metrics,” I admit, “but,” I fade out.
“You want my theory on Ed hate?” Sunny offered, “He’s beyond talented vocally - whoever your favorite artist is, Ed’s probably not that far behind. He’s a stellar song writer and he’s making hit after hit; do you want my theory?”
“Too basic, too popular?” I guess.
“No, he’s not appealing to the gaze,” Sunny states.
“The gays?” Leong questions, stepping back into the conversation.
“No,” Sunny corrects, “the gaze - G-A-Z-E, he doesn’t try to look pretty all the time.”
“Ha!” I snort, “Gaze, I thought you meant gays too,” as Leong and I chuckle together.
“No,” Sunny laughs, “nothing like THAT. Ed’s just not trying to be a heartthrob, he knows that’s not his core strong point - and that’s why he’s discounted.”
“Like lesbians don’t comb their hair or wear makeup and wear pajamas to class” Leong observes, “they don’t want to attract the male gaze?”
“No, we’re not imbued by the male gaze.” Sunny states, “Ed just wants to lowkey.”

You looked me in my eye
So cold, so sweet you lied.
How could you do such a thing,
All those beautiful things you wrote, i thought you were a king.

But see you were so rare, I wouldve never assume otherwise,
Like definitely perhaps your nothing like these other guys.
See I don't know why you tried to bring me into your ****,
Talking bout love and loyalty, man thats *******.
Said youre not gonna hurt me you're different,
Yet you lie so fiercely with a grin.

I still can't believe it , you don't seem like the type,
But you can't put nothing pass nobody , i thought you knew what was right.

Caught feelings, actually wanted dealings
But you were too high on your **** shift lowkey,
Thinking i wouldn't have figure out, all you ****** is rookies .
But this always happens to me right?
Didn't even expected and still got hurt,
Somehow i'm always ending up  feeling like dirt.
So tired of the same old thing,
Focus on myself, get good grades, stunt cous i don't have a ring.

Noone know what loyalty is,
Everyone just wanna run game,
But i love the players , i'm just getting better with the team.
It always turn out this way,
Such a disappointment , i don't want to hear what you have to say.
So sad to see it gone,
But life goes on.


-dpk

I'am,
what i am.
The lowkey Siren.

Lemme sing you a song.
While I place a curse on
your mayflower.
And drag us all down.

Captain,
I'm not one to **** with.

Under the borderline sun.
I'm a career psychopath.
Working from home.
Beneath the ground.

I once called home.

No song from future, ***, wayne
Can describe this feelin' and or pain
From the beginning till the end **** got stained.
Like a scar it won't go away

Stayin' up all night like it's nothin'
Maybe I try to show off that im bluffin'.
Or exaggerate the fact I'm hurtin'
On the corner wet as hell but lowkey dryin'
Messed up, mad man, tarzan
Confused like tape on a rubberband
Can't sleep without thinking of back then
When I hugged, kissed dreamed about you or just holding your hand.

Pillow cases they show all the real faces
The ones when you can't sleep during different phases.
Of the night, and in the morning you can tell all the traces.
From all those signs down there it amazes.

Probably don't won't or ever just care
But this was not intended for you to be a dare.
And I am stuck looking for an exit that is not ever there.
Yet my feels still strong **** I hope you still care.

Probably act tough to be buff
But inside I am hollow like a cracked up oeuf
And the real me Aint what you see but from the stuff
The lil dam stuff from the times I was still happy and with a bust.

Probably this won't make sense.
For you because I may delete this soon.
But if there were a word to describe everything I there is right now..
I'd say immense.

We create
new histories everyday,
but we also
create
new atrocities everyday.
At least
that’s what you
indirectly told me when
I was stuck in between
the convergence of
the black hole sun.

To be frank,
once in a while I
would expect you
to wonder who actually
I am
and I would also
wait for
you to ask
me things
in order to get
to know me better.
But
you
never
did.
Let alone to remember that we once met years ago.
I guess I expected too much.

(([Lowkey] I honestly want you to wonder, “who’s this mysterious girl-next-door who recently had just moved in?” at least once.))

((Maybe one day you will. Maybe one day you will wonder about me and approach me and ask me stuff. At the time when it’s too late and I don’t care about you anymore.))

The convoluted
conundrum that
I must solve here
is about how
some people want
peace and justice
so bad but they
do the opposite of
what they’re supposed
to do in order
to reach those
two things.
I guess it made me
conclude,
maybe peace
has never really
existed after all.
Peace is probably
just a delusional
misconception
construed by
idealists who
still have glimpses
of hope.
And I am not
one of those
idealists.

I am
that one kid
who has always
wanted to
run away to
somewhere unreachable
by everyone
I know
or to dissolve
all the remaining
memories I
have.

(I’m lying if I say I don’t want you to love me. I’m lying if I say I’m alright this way. I’m lying if I say I’m fine with not running away. I’m lying if I say I don’t want to resurrect into a whole new person and create a whole new world with a whole new surrounding.)

The only time
I thought you
cared was
years ago
when we were still
strangers
(I think we still are)
and we sat
by the creek that time;
you told me
the only thing that
mattered;
the only thing
that I would forever remember;
deep in my
earnest
mind.

“All those hegemonies and authoritative institutions, I think you don’t need them. They’d hurt you even more. You don’t need to go to that communal institution called school, nor to conform to the heinous dogmas of the uncultured swines around you — they’d keep making you feel like a misfit who doesn’t matter. And I don’t want you to feel that way. When those elderly people told you that you’ll be going nowhere if you don’t listen to them; don’t listen to them for they’re off playing God. I want you to
listen to
nothing and
no one
but your
stances.
I’ll look after
you someday
and make sure
you don’t get
hurt
even if
preventing you
from getting hurt
involves
death to
both of us.”

For the love of God,
we were s t r a n g e r s
when you said that to me.

Now you still don’t get it why do I still love you that profoundly
—and why deep down I wish you loved me?

Ladies, I have a question. Maybe you can help me understand
How y’all claim to be heartless but lowkey desiring a man
I get that you’re paranoid & tired of being heartbroken
Dismissing every man that approaches you asking your heart to open
Not gonna argue with your reasons, in fact I agree
But in a bunch of phonies, there’s always a King looking for that key
So used to peasants that you can’t recognize a real one in your presence
All you know is hurt so you curve any man even if he’s not your preference
Thinking every guy is full of himself & do what the last man did
Making every man suffer from the mistakes of the previous man’s bid
During the day, you front the mask of savage just to keep guys away
But at night you’re in your feelings wishing a man would love you the right way
Seeing other girls cuffed up & inside it makes you jealous
Cause you wanna be loved even tho you front to be careless
Pretending to be a savage? Please, stop the charade
Still attached to that infamous broken record & it’s devastating serenade
False savages protecting something like it’ll forever be shattered
Never wanting to love again like every man’s love comes with a hazard
Stopping playing the savage, we all know you want true love
Not saying you shouldn’t protect your heart but don’t every man pay for the mistakes of your last love
Love can be beautiful once you meet the perfect one that defines it
Your heart will feel like a treasure once the right one finds it
If you go as hard for a King as you do for a peasant, Love will be a Blessing
But if you continue to impersonate a savage when you lowkey wanna be love then your nights will forever be depressing

As I took a leap of faith
in the moment of honour
I took a glimpse in the mirror
to make sure if I’m still whole
nothingness occured
as I stirred my tears within my soul.
As I took my hand towards my heart
my palms shivered in poetic justice
(breathe in, breathe out)
my mind recovered its mental stimulation
my soul dwelled on the spirit
of true peace and self-control
I have found my purpose
in lowkey and meditative reliance.

Just remember, the most common face can hide the most sinful acts of humanity. And generally no worse the rest of us. For any evil to be accepted, one must spend time demoralizing it in the public sphere. Let it become normal. Remember, ignorance is bliss and Lavey first Satanic sin is in regards to stupidity. For most, morals and ethics are for the others in suits and one’s in isolated libraries. For it at times, monotonous, boring, lowkey, faceless and holding no emotion. In a fog, you can buy a gift for a boy, jumping joy and wagging tail, to which lives in amazement, as smiles from friends, surprised to see crime in the streets as no one places value on education. Do not judge the one who preaches evil, but judge on the size of the mob and every individual there. Anyone in modern age can be anything, including a higher power and veiled pagan attributes. Evil is cannot be cured with evil, as it eats on the same table as you. As a Satanist, I am my own hero and greatest enemy. If I contribute to reality, that is my only connection to a larger society. For both goodness and evil is relative. People work, people live, people love and people cry. Nothing in this world people hold more dearer to their hearts than the things they had worked for. As for that, it is where evil will value. To be completely successful in this life, requires a lot of ego and more ignorance, when it’s too late, your soul had been lost.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr13?ie=UTF8&qid=1532992472&sr=8-3&keywords=darcy+prince

It’s December and my roommates and I are deeply into Christmas. We’ve got a little 3ft tall Christmas tree with about fifty-thousand little multicolor LED lights on it (LEDs because we ARE saving the planet). We’re in the ‘study period’ right before finals and It’s a lowkey Saturday night.

Lisa and I were pajama’d and gelaxing in our suite’s common room. She was in a tan easy chair and I was slouched on our red corduroy couch, my slippered feet up on a white coffee table. We had a Christmas playlist playing throughout the suite, a ‘Christmas lights of Paris’ Youtube video streaming silently on our TV and cups of Keurig brewed hot-chocolate with little marshmallows.

Leong came out of her room and joined us, taking a seat on the far side of the couch with me. After a moment she stretched-out, putting her head in my lap. I love her jet-black, cornsilk hair and it wasn’t long before I found myself stroking it, a gesture primates have been making since the pleistocene period. When Lisa glanced over at us and smiled, I started making gestures like I was looking for fleas in her hair and eating them - in a silly, momentary comedy lost on Leong.

We got back from November recess a few days ago. After three years together, it was easy, almost automatic, for us to fall back in our rhythms as roommates. On arrival, I glanced through my drawers, ***** clothes and shelves, taking a casual inventory. Everything was as I remembered it but still, everything had the feel of trivial leftovers from some lost civilization.

I got a new M3-iMac, it’s really the best platform for putting docs side by side. The first thing I did was hit ‘restore my setup’ from the cloud. I love futzing with tech - I can remember when that kind of restoration would have taken all day - but fifteen minutes later I could tell from the files on my desktop that everything was restoring nicely.

As I sat back on my office chair watching the restoration, I felt myself relax. THIS was real life, this was how life should be done. No matter what else I’d done or where else I’d gone - this was how my life should be - at school, with friends, facing those challenges. It was a peek-moment.

It was an illusion that my little iMac welcomed me back, like an old friend, as it finished restoring - wasn’t it?

The party's over now
The sun's coming up
Not a word, not a sound
Better pack up my stuff

I'm taking the backdoor
Keeping it lowkey
Cause I know you want more
But that's just not for me
I can't be what you wanted
I can't be what you need
I'm just hoping for something
That won't make me bleed

The first train is coming
And I'm feeling cold
I'd miss mama's cooking
But I'm just too old

Always took the backdoor
And kept it lowkey
Cause I can never be sure
That you'll be there for me
I don't think I want to
But it's what I need
Cause after what I've been through
I can't afford to bleed

I always loved summer
But I'm stuck in winter
I took some falls
Thought I'd seen it all
But I'm not even halfway
Still dreaming 'bout some day

Knocking on your front door
You'll be waiting for me
Be mine and I'll be yours
Like it was meant to be
That's all I wanted
That's all I need
But I'm just dreaming
I wanna go back to sleep

I hope you're sleeping fine,
Because you're the only thing on my mind; it's always been you.

Lately I've wanted you to lowkey, but really highkey,
Get the **** out of my head.

You should know that this isn't a love poem.

This is a ******* poem.
A ******* poem for making me fall in love with you,

And ******* for making it impossible to close my eyes without seeing your smile.
******* for making me love that **** smile.

******* for making me fall for you,
And ******* for leaving.

******* for making me feel so ******* useful when you were here.
But ******* for making me feel useless when you left.

But you know what?
I hope you know I don't regret anything.

*I love you,
But ******* for making me ******* love you.