i am very dark
but i am also very positive
an angel who dines with demons
moving cool through the hell fire
flowers resting on a tombstone
entertaining myself with the evils
while i wait for heaven’s gates
to open up.


help me get out of my mind

before i go out of my mind.


Sometimes I just wanna be normal

Graveyard. (Short Story)

i took a walk around the park where the dead bodies dwell. it’s always been strange to me that graveyards are just out in the open. convenience i guess. but who conveniently wants to be amongst the souls of expired lives? i don’t know. i didn’t know anyone who lived.. well.. who was buried there, but i went around reading tombstones like vintage records in a record store. i love records. there was a certain originality that existed in music back then. you could be hypnotized by the artist before you even heard a song. music is an endangered species. it was silent here. the soundtrack of my footsteps was not much of a tune. as this somber song played on, i stumbled upon a grave that had a name similar to mine. the gravity of curiosity pulled me down to get a better look. now squatting, i began to read the name, but before i could finish, the words changed. i’d seen scary movies before so i was aware that this may not end well for me. the black guy always dies. i jumped up, and before i could plant my feet to make a move, a hand grabbed my ankle. i had already started planning my own funeral when i heard a voice. “i really need to lay off these drugs”, i thought. i heard the voice again. “don’t be afraid, my brother. i am who you would’ve been had you been alive centuries ago.” my fear had begun to take a backseat to confusion and curiosity. “What?”, i said, and at that moment, the hand that grabbed my ankle made way for an arm, which then turned into a chest, until, eventually, i was face to face with one of my ancestors. “yeaaa, the drugs gotta go,” i whispered to myself. He began to speak, his voice deeper than the ocean. “Hello, my name is not important. What matters is that you are here as God told me you would be.” i started to wonder how he still had skin. “You may be wondering why I am covered in the clothing of flesh instead of the nakedness of my bare bones. It is because God wanted me to show something to you.” He turned around. what i saw, words cannot describe, but i immediately began to cry. scars as long as his spine covered his back in multiple places. wounds that not even heaven could heal. “Close your eyes,” He said, “these marks of hatred are the braille that will allow you to see your true purpose.” after drying the rivers that flowed from my pupils, i shut my eyes. He grabbed my hand and guided it across each wound, like an instructor who gives vision to the blind through feeling. eyes closed, i began to see the past. vividly. i saw those who looked just like me, running. for their life and for freedom. next, i saw the present. but nothing changed. my people were still running. but this time, there was no master. they were running from themselves. as if i had been woken up by the shock of a bad dream, my eyes opened abruptly. He had opened my eyes in more ways than one. “What you have just seen is what many do not, or choose not, to see.” “What about the future?” i asked. He replied, “the future is up to you.” and as quick as the water dives into the earth, He vanished back into His eternal bed.

"The future is up to me? What does that even mean?"

i am still not sure, but i do know that my life was changed.

i began to run home but then i thought,
“no, we’ve been running for too long.”

and i do not want to see my people run anymore…

Artist: UnknownMiles Davis
Title: UnknownFlamenco Sketches
Album: UnknownKind of Blue
Plays: 132