Freedom Is A Lie  If I Ever Wake Up And Feel Free I’m Going Back To Sleep And Try Again Because I

This may be a bit intense...

Every day without you is like a week without rain, to survive, I’m forced to drink the blood of the other loves I’ve slain.

Look how you’ve changed me. I’m a vampire, I’ve died but still remain here in a castle that’s haunted by the absence of you. You’re the real monster though you have no claws, no fangs.

Every night I stare into the waters of Lake Pontchartrain as the sun sets, then I dive in and swim to the other side without taking a breath as I search through swamp and suburb counting each and every one of my steps, holding out hope that I will find your footprints left behind, and I’d follow them blindly off the edge of this earth while I fight off beast and thief as I search for a sign that you may not be as far as I think you are.

Though I am the hunter and you’re on the run I have armed myself with flowers and gave you the gun so when I find you my fate is yours to choose, and if you reject my apologies I’ll drag my bloodied and lifeless body back across those slain beasts’ and thieves’ bones making sure I leave a trail of these flowers and bleed all the way home just in case you change your mind and want to love me back to life again you'll know where to find me.

If not, I’ll gladly die knowing that the night is not as frightening as what I see every morning when I wake and face the dawn.

You’ll Know This Is About You

I have been a different person with different people. I sometimes become who they want me to be, or I’ll retreat when I feel like they expect too much.  I’m the strong, silent type who talks a lot, and falls in love too quick, and breaks hearts too often, and is always there when I’m needed, and never answers the phone when it rings, and has a heart of gold, and a heart of coal, and is too selfish to ever consider anyone else, and will give away the very last of his things… 

at least thats whats they say, and they would all be telling the truth. 

I’m looking forward to discovering who I‘m going to become with you,

who will you turn me into?

Where The Water Flows

See the river. Need the river. River wild. Tame the river. Want a city. Build a city. Flood the city. Blame the river. Build a wall. Hold it back. Keep it there. Dig it deep. Run a pipe. Get a drink. Water plants. River sleep. Board a ship. Travel north. Economics. Get in line. Hit a bridge. Sink the ship. Oil spill. Pay a fine. Snow melts. Up north. All that water. Coming down. High tide. Water rise. River crests. Leaving town. Higher walls. Deeper dredge. Levee breach. People drown. River mad. Eating land. Cypress trees. Can’t be found. Water flows. Downhill. Need a drink. Shit and piss. Flush the pot. To the lake. Don’t forget. Feed the fish. Oil and grease. Antifreeze. Down the drain. They don’t mind. Grab a pole. Cast it out. Catch a bite. Dinner time. Oil and grease. Fry it up. Kids say. It tastes funny. Wife sick. Healthcare. Plan canceled. No money. Take the kids. To the lake. Find a beach. Dive in. Fish stink. Sand sticky. Signs say. Don't swim. News says. Boil your water. After every time. It rains. House floods. Water dries. Do this all. Over again. River laughs. Lake cries. Travel West. Dry land. Build a house. In the hills. Fill your pool. Water plants. Never flood. Never rain. All the water. Drying up. River laughs. Lake too. Need a drink. Out of luck.

If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

Mik Everett (via thelovejournals)

Or you can die a thousand times, a thousand different ways. 

Who shot ya!? Hey, Pac, I’m still on the case because ever since they murdered you none of us have been safe. Was it the police? Was it your homeboys? Was is the KKK? On the Vegas Strip after a fight I’m surprised nobody got it on tape. I remember being nine on the cusp of defiance, rejecting all the heroes I was assigned in my sociology class. I told my teacher they were all murderers or murdered or make-believe, then I played her “Only God Can Judge Me” before she ran to the stereo and threw my cd in the trash. And that’s when I knew you were the hero I’d look up to, somebody not in the history books someone real I could grasp. And then I saw the news you had been shot you had been killed. Then I came back to school and my teacher just laughed. She said I should pick better heroes, somebody not as aggressive, someone on a much better path. Then I had to remind her of Malcolm of Martin of Huey of Fred of Medgar etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, and told her it didn't matter, black heroes don't seem to last. Who shot ya! Hey, Pac, what are we gonna do? How are they gonna find who kills us if they can’t find who killed you? I Wonder If Heaven Got A Ghetto, verse three you sounded something like a prophet. You predicted 20 years ago that police would be out here killing us and we couldn't do anything to stop it. You said, “cops give a damn about a negro, pull the trigger, kill a nigga he's a hero” and now, “the streets are death row.” The cops are judge, jury and executioner and apparently every bit of it’s legal. And I don't know if Heaven’s got a ghetto, but I know its got a long line and there’s some people waiting to get in that could use your comforting because we know Tupac cared when nobody else did. I’m sure we keep you busy up there, we’ll make sure you died for something. Who shot ya? Hey, Pac, your killer is still on the loose. I don’t know if you heard, but they got BIG too. They’re killing everybody that we looked up to. And I know there’s people who will hear this that won’t understand “He was a thug” “He got what he deserved” “His music should have been banned” And those are the same people who fear us when we band together in death. They mock us they incite us when we riot or protest. Who shot ya!? Hey, Pac, maybe it’s best we never know. Jokes on them because they will never be immortalized and you will forever be the hero.

I want what I want as quickly as possible to make sure it's something I still want once I get it. If not, gives me enough time to want something else.

Before Drew Brees arrived in New Orleans and gentrified the Saints' quarterback position, Aaron Brooks held almost every franchise passing record, including being the only quarterback to bring the Saints a playoff victory. Also, after Katrina he was the only person on the team to speak out against the NFL and Tom Benson for the way they handled the players, and was blackballed by every other team for it (except the Raiders). I'm surprised most fans have let Aaron Brooks fade into Saints obscurity. #2 was the first Saints jersey I owned. I'm not saying he was the best to ever stand under center, but at least he deserves his own mediocre restaurant along with the other New Orleans quarterbacks his jersey hangs next to in the team hall of fame. ⚜️

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