Contrary to popular belief:
I'm complicated.
What it is one time PAC DIV.
My mind is a blood red brick house on Stone street
with thousands of rooms; blue mirrors,
the auroma of marajuana and music.
Cacoethes Scribendi. Get it tattooed on my wrist.
New Orleans native. My accent proves it all.
I am finally beggining to accept the fact that I am meant to be alone.
I am forever in the cycle of change.
I tend to treat serious situations like how I treat strangers.
I'm a starving writer and a dying phtographer.
No one will ever comprehend or understand.
When I die I want Bob Marley playing at my gravesite.
I am the rose that grew from concrete.
“I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.” -Song of Solomon.
What’s not pretty about the color of chocolate, the color of polished mahogany? What’s not pretty about the color of polished ebony or rich brandy?
Especially this bad bitch on the right. haha
