Salmon thoughts

Skies are salmon, I'm walking over these gelatin grounds that for a second felt like cement drying up on my feet we were walking she had a tangerine dress on, her hair was black her heels were smooth and her legs like chopsticks long and think and ivory at the ends. She held her dress up as we ran across the gelatin to these stairs, as we reached the top i Suddenly was in a dark room that I was familiar with for some reason, I was with a girl with black hair brown skin and a puffy jacket that was black polka dots on an orange skin, it looked like a big cloud around her abdomen. She wanted to go upstairs to eat, as if this was our house, and then he walks out with two women appearing on the straw chairs by the lamp, one gives me a hug and we fall in between the air into a missionary sex position, my toungue hanging out of my mouth like a panting dog sinking in a space on her neck like a bean bag. I felt weary and old like worn leather shoes. Then I woke up.

I wonder what Ghandi dreamt 

I wonder what Martin thought

How many cops popped up when 

Malcolm copped

A new ak47, busting balloons

confetti

Is it the messenger or the message that I lost faith in already?

I wonder what Ghandi dreamt

I wonder what Martin thought

When he chose to put his life on the line for people with no cost

My brothers eyes are red, and his heart is cold

We repeat the same ol' message just like how our mama told

Where did thoughts emotion and breath come from, where did blankets to keep me warm where did heat come from why does death greet my loved ones

With a soft kiss

I wonder what Ghandi dreamt

I wonder what Martin thought

When he saw that we've been shadow boxing our own demons, no love found tranquility lost.

91jet

Sunflowers peek right through yo window baby, everything you do is so beautiful lady, water runnin lavender hugs up on yaaa babe, place two rings on your index Iknow you thought of me that night you was stranded, you ain't plan it...

And I know I saw it coming racing planets c'mon... We on the move, take off your shoes...and ride top down in 91 jetta (all red, black spokes) 91jetta... (Bumping ugk three six mafia) 91 jetta ( we can ride we can roll) 91 jetta fill ya mind with these poems...light an Insence smoke is gon get us caught, let's make a smooooth getaway.... Maybe we should runaway faraway really faraway.... I tie your hair when I love u slow just to find your gold I'll go through the maze, u dnt remind me off my jeep your more smoother... Ooooooh the breeze is cooler down low while u ride me like my 91 jetta

There's a man walking down the side walk now making sure he avoids any cracks, a couple copper Abraham faces and Jeffersons in his pocket singing a tune. 

There's a man stepping on the sidewalks with fine precision. His coat hangs low, and his wallet holds no identity only a grocery store coupon. A collard shirt holds his neck from falling.

Balancing in boots that croack with each step he's tilting over every split between the lips of cement.

platanos

I wish I could snap 

my skinny brown 

fingers together 

like wands

And make a warm 

plate of platanos

Sprout.

Soft brown 

Carmel kisses sweet yellow like

The sun at six am before my phone screams

Before the kids wake up

Before your nightmares from yesterday's turn into tomorrow's 

I wish I could feed you platanos

The kind that an Abuela makes 

backwards floating in a sheet of canola

Tumbling in paper towels I want you

To taste these sweet platanos

Gold brown cinnamon and lime

1,000,003

Idk how to start this, yet finish this or title this or even organize my thoughts into a formal paragraph and type away and let my fingers bite letters that I myself am afraid of typing. So I guess that's it, fear. Fear to be. Fear of living. Fear of death. Fear of dunking my Oreo cookies too deep into the milk until it falls into a pool of black crumbles that blend into a surprise. Too many fears that I have. Does that make me a courageous coward? Or does that just make me bold enough to type about myself? Who knows... this will probably go good or bad. The sum of all fears is a million and three.