Green Tea.

If temptation is a drug, then the human race is its vial. No matter how virtuous a man or woman is, there will forever exist a tick within us that wanes to do wrong. At a young age, we are told time and time again about the existence of the "right way" and the "wrong way" to do things...but they never tell us about the alternatives. The mistakes. The medians that make us human.

My mother always encouraged me to "stay focused, and never give in to what's luring you away from what you're supposed to be doing". Her simple wisdom taught me a lot, kept me motivated and away from outer distractions, but it couldn't keep me from the curiousity of my own mind. Combing the caves of our curiosities leads us to discoveries we probably should never make. The "What if"s and "I wonder"s become dangersous weapons as they can be either our best friend, or our worst enemy. With such a double edged sword, you would think I would have chosen my battles more carefully.

She was a real fragile girl. Hard on the outside. Inside however, you could tell how battered and bruised she had become as a result of being in and out of love. The saddest part was that she never was able to conceive what love was in the first place. Her physique was too old for her mentality, and man had taken advantage. I wanted to show her different. But the maturity of another silhouette triggered my youthful curiosity and, well...I became the most hurtful helping hand in history.

Written 7/13/2010.

I was some type of in love with her

I just wanted to lust you.

Plus you act so hard body,

I didn't think that I would touch you.

When I tried to give it to you,

You ain't know how to take it.

And you never gave me your heart,

So I ain't know how to break it.

But somehow, before my eyes, you lay in shards

Hardest diamond in the rough

With tears of a broken guard

Ashamed and alone, cuz nobody can feel yo pain

Yo' smile lights up the sky

Just to hold back all the rain

All I wanted was what I saw

Not what I had yet to feel,

But the warmth of adjacent bodies made the shit seem so real

Used to text me,

"Good morning child, don't let the world rush you"

Now its,

"Have a nice day! Oh yeah nigga, FUCK YOU"

...I still read em though...

Every damn day, cut me deep

Like getting slit in my wrists every morning, before I awoke from sleep

You became the star of my nightmares

Imagining what we might share,

Nights out on the town,

TV shows in our nightwear

I can lightweight still feel yo voice whisper in my right ear,

"Its kinda cold boy, go ahead, touch me right there"

...and its been light years...

Stubborn Flowers

In the ever changing world of the youth, hardly anything is permanent. Friends, ambitions, and feelings change within the blink of an eye. One false move. When something ever proves it has the potential to hold a significance in our lives, we grasp onto its presence, and never let go. Even if it hurts.

I had a conversation with an old friend yesterday who was experiencing such issues. Falling into a set of arms she was never meant to fall in...well, at least not on her watch. Girl loves boy...boy likes her. But Girl can't let go. And the more she holds onto him, the more she lets go of herself.

Things like this make me look at women in a different light. From the most intelligent and humble, to those who just bring beauty to the table, they all like to be fed. If you can nourish a woman's existence, no matter what the food, you prolong yours in her life. But its common knowledge that all food isn't good for you.

Budding, you are adorable.

Quaint.

Cocooned, your potential stirs amongst anxious eyes in anticipation of its unraveling.

A universal nourishment is how you quench your young roots; Unknowing that it is exactly how you will try and salvage them once they become old.

Days pass by, and your features begin to flourish.

Vibrant. Voluptuous.

Youth sheds away to reveal the prime.

Aromatic vibrations and visual sensations echo the acquisition of beauty to those who await its arrival.

Avidly, they approach.

Coy, you stare.

Impatient, they apprehend.

Innocent, you allow.

The shine with which you are praised, extracts vanity with each of its rays.

Adorned by the limelight, you abandon self nourishment captivated by the substitute provided.

However, it isn't the same as when you were a bud.

The first petal broken ceases to phase you.

Neither does the second.

You stand tall, yet you feel the inner wither of your structure.

But as time has forever told...a rose, will ALWAYS be a rose.