The hardest part about being a Gemini is were constantly stuck between logic and emotions.



My Dr. told me I had a nervous bleeding in my brain

The judge told me I was criminally insane

I knew some of my crazy was from the cocaine

See I’ve had my lover tied up in the basement for, only God knows when

I looked at him and said…


Crying clowns and morbid sounds

Crows above

And blood filled tubs

Mask and cutting glass

Black moons and poison mushrooms

Empty rooms filled with witches brooms

A jackals tale seeing acid trails

A dirty deed planted with demonic seeds

A haunted trust with piercing thrusts

Gagged with rags and gasoline bags

Heart melting eyes singing cryptic lullabies

Tormented mimes with twisted spines

Sickening rhymes with catholic chimes

A fantasy reversed with a witches curse

A dog moon with hidden rooms

A serpent’s tail stuffed with human cells

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Love Yourself

You belittle how I feel because you’re not big enough to man up. I’m tired of being on an emotional rollercoaster, that crashes into a dumb. The shit from the dumb slams on to a window looking gross, lopsided and disproportioned, I’m there to clean it up.You want all the glory and want me to do all the work, while you refuse to be the antidote to the poisonous pain you’ve caused me and countless other souls that were captured by the light on the outside. What hurts most is that you never forced me to love you, it was worse you manipulated and made me feel like I was supposed to. I was wrong in what I thought was special…I thought only love could bring it out of you. I see that you’re too sick to want to get well, you’ve given up! Now, I’m left only to love myself.

The cycle continues…

I’m trapped in a cycle of love, looking for answers deep beneath the surface that lures him to love me

I’m trapped in a cycle of love that feels only isolated, cold, reluctantly bold

I’m trapped in a cycle of love, because it hurts to be brave and open up

I’m trapped in a cycle of love, my generation scorned by matching Jordan’s and love means can you afford it?

I’m trapped in a cycle of love, that feels more like loveless and the only way to get attention is by showing your naked ass

I’m trapped in a cycle of love, when sliding in my dm is how u make a pass and going on a real date is a thing of the past

I’m trapped in a cycle of love, when what’s trending matters more than a conversation with true meaning

I’m trapped, I’m trapped, I’m trapped in a cycle of love, that desperately needs changing!

Missing You

Missing someone feels like your reaching for something you wanted all your life but your arms are just too short to grasp it, or your heart is too pure for any one person to endure. Maybe missing you is the only thing that gives me life to push forward, only to fall infinitely down a dark spiraling hole. Missing you, is like losing a pinkie toe from a falling piano, severing it instantly *there is no ice nearby to save the toe* Missing you is like being in a two person canoe, without the paddles and without you… Missing you is like being invisible in a stadium full of people. It’s like believing you are beautiful, yet treated as if your a disgusting piece of rotten fruit *something you 3pt jump shot into the nearest garbage pail*  Missing you, feels like I’m being chased by Jeffrey Dahmers ghost *except he eats souls and not people* Missing you, is like having the worst hangover of your life and having to force yourself to vomit just to get relief from the burning sensation that sits at the pit of your stomach.  Missing you, hurts so bad it feels like the first time you ever got your heart broken, and you can feel it in every fiber of your alive yet lifeless body. I miss you so much that I’m starting to hate words like Ms, Miss, Missing, and You.

*Will time heal this annoying feeling of missing someone you hate?

Say it Show it Know it

You utter the phrase I love you and its acid to my ears, then starts the tears that I wish would just go away! Your not for me… I imagine running you over with a car and stabbing a dagger through your heart! I imagine shooting you between the eyes that once stared at me and uttered the phrase I love you. I want to rip you apart like you ripped apart my heart all the while uttering I love You. You fail to see that love is not just something to be heard, and not something you can learn, just mean it, show it, and the other person will simply know it to be true when you say “I Love You.”


The Girl with no Name: Part Two

It all began on a warm summer night, sun setting, laughter of children playing in the distance, smells of fried chicken sending smiles of excitement, kids rushing home with rumbling stomachs, meanwhile she glances up at the street lights, thinking to herself she only has a few more minutes to play with her new found friend. He’s a couple years older than her and she likes the way he looks, the way he treats her, and there is an attraction that neither of them hold the capacity to truly understand. As she walks in after a long day in the sun with a shiny red convertible remote control car, her mother asked where she received the car from. “it’s from my friend, he said I can play with it” she says. Her mother insisted that she give the toy back to the boy, not really sure why, she reluctantly returned the red convertible. Years pass and the two of them build a solid friendship. During there friendship they would run through burnt abandon houses, flip on urinated mattresses, bike riding to the white side of town, sitting on top of roof tops, eating junk food, you name it, they did it together!

One day the girls mother decided to move away to a new city for a fresh start. The girl was very sad, because not only would she be leaving all that she new, but her best friend would be left behind too, and so they went…Still trapped deep within her thoughts she remembers her first day of 9th grade being in a whole new city, everything was so big, bright and cleaner than where she came from. She saw white people mixed with black people, very little Asians and Arabs, unlike what she saw on a day to day. The only time she ever saw white people growing up was when she and her mother went across eight mile to shop at North Land Mall, a suburb located outside of Detroit, MI. Trying to make a home out of this new city the girl mother found a job at a local car wash. Not to mention mother was ridden of her kidneys after giving birth to her fifth child. The girls mother have five children to care for and also attended dialysis treatments 3 times a week for 4-6 hours per visit. Somehow the girl with no name kept her heart alive despite her families many struggles.

As she spent the summer in the new city of West Coast Sacramento CA, she sensed that she would never love innocently or fearlessly again. The girl had no friends, no knowledge of new hang out spots, just stood a girl and her broken heart. Every day that summer she would think back to that very moment when they had to depart. Not having any control over their own destiny, hopelessly losing the only thing that kept them both alive in the heart of the ghetto. He just stood there holding a pillow that they once laid on, a fan that blew on them during hot summer nights, and a teddy that she would hold dear when he wasn’t near. All the items he held were replaceable, but she wasn’t. The distance between them grew and the girl wanted to leap out of the car and run like on the movies into his arms and never let go, but that was impossible she had to go. She felt the tightest lump form in the middle of her throat like the lump everyone had in the movies, watching the ending of  the Titanic, fighting  to hold back the tears. Puppy love so her mother thought, but this love would set the tone for her expectation of every man in her future. He new her, he understood her struggle, and he saw the twinkle that still remains in her eyes. It took three months for her to stop crying, while listening to Luther Vandross, “Promise Me”.

What saddened her the most was that her loss was not his. Yes, he would miss her but he gave up first. The calls stopped, the “i miss you” faded, and when she would call him, he seemed further away than the 3000 miles that severed their love. The very person that ignited her heart was the same to put out her fire. He hurt her when only after two weeks he could pursue the girl next door from him.  Only after two weeks he could forget about the years vested into trusting loving and not judging. She gulps on her own siliva thinking back to the time during her freshman year of high school. He was the start of the many broken hearts that were to come…


*im not much of a story writer, but im trying here folks(lol)broken_heart_by_fastreflex-1..I hope you all enjoy.

* stay tuned part three coming soon

Copy Write@ Zachina Harps