Crack heads sit atop each other,
as they stare into acres of land.
Occupied by big brother.

Trash scattered everywhere, 

the creek filled with waste. 

dreams of the people quickly fade, 

yet the still hold into a chance of hope. 

hope for a superman. 

a savior. 

The Good will prevail, 

the evil will rot. 

sizzling on the hot summer streets. 

April. 5:03

i forgot to say something to you,

thank you. 

thank you for being there when i lost my mind.

thank you for being there for me when my grand pop died. 

thank you for being there for me when i came out. 

than you for being there for me when i fucked up. 

and when i fucked up again. 

and when i fuck up in the future. 

thank you for always telling me to chase my dreams.

thank you for being their for me when i don’t reach my goals.

thank you for telling me i’m beautiful. 

thank you for inspiring me. 

thank you for letting me be myself. 

thank you. 



one hundred thirty five.

can barely speak,

thoughts are quickly fading. 

she tries to hold on, 

yet she can’t wait to be free.

just 365 days ago.

she was 185.

one hundred eighty five.

she could walk, 

she could dance. 

she yearns for the day that she can dance again. 

for that day shall be coming soon. 

we will cry, 

she will rejoice. 

I once had a dream that life was real.