I find it stereotypical, even quite quizzical, how my elliptical axis has detoured from the cipher. Rising 2 an evolutionary change, stationary, unwilling 2 remain. My voice lost in a whirlwind of years, of tears & fears of reproduced Picassos & Van Gogh's, picturesque woes of bitter starry nites & still lives. Need 2 find the soelus of my plexus, 2 regain the trust, 2 receive the lust of truth misplaced in the last brotha's vibe, his disguise a full masquerade equipped with a harlequin's face. I'd luv 2 erase the past, though it's made me
who I am

But 2 question my circumstantial mind, constant looking for the malignant and benign, tumored rumors I've heard & the naive bullshit I've endured, spreading systemically along my nerve. Not saying I want or deserve, sympathy nor empathy from any path crossed; however, a little consolation thru this consultation at no cost 2...u can criticize, try 2 recognize in me what I won't deny. Mistakes renamed experiences, consequences became unlimited, and I even thought the Lord didn't leave His footprints in the sands of the hour glass. No focus on my goals, only when I'm alone do I reach the middle & center myself & flo like water only 2 rediscover
who I am

Illuminating, captivating with words, sentimental, not judgmental, at times frantic, a hopeless romantic, knowing my beliefs are prevalent, relevant 2 this poetical, lyrical cause. I'm content with educational academics, not societies gimmicks of what 2 wear, style my hair or the curves in my physique, I am mystique and luring, seductively securing any tendacies I have within me inside u. This epiphany is truism, ejaculated lyricism, damn I'm beginning 2 understand, 2 comprehend the origins of insertion 2 the mental cortex, the vortex of an abyss of infinite rhymes of iambic pentameters or outside parameters. U can't confine or redesign this blueprint of spoken word, can only adapt 2 my environment, a chameleon, this beautiful poetess of Zion is
who I am