Spray CHEATER on his parking spot....

Maturity bellows and bends to the richly fined tune of SATISFACTION.

Revenge runs through my red arteries, My Heart is skipping to a beat of REVELATION!

A choice is to be made, act like a dignified poised lady.

Don’t let him get the best of you baby.

But damn it feels so good to get my tingling keys

And scratch the words PUSSY ASS NIGGA until his Jaguar bleeds.

Ooo this bleach feels soo good to touch expensive Burberry cloth.

I'm feeling so uplifted my eyes smooth over and gloss.

Splish splash, criss crash Svorski crystal makes a splintery trance.

Another woman he has begot?

Spray paint CHEATER on his parking spot.

I BUST THE WINDOWS OUTCHYO MOTHAFUCKIN CAR.

I bet you didn’t think I would take it this far.

But honey chile let me tell u, you fucked with the RIGHT one today.

And all I got to say is aint nuttin like a woman scorned.

Fuck a heart belittled mashed and torn.

Materialistically this shit don’t matter.

Only the matters of my heart have fodder.

Destruction is a girl’s best friend.

It doesn’t boil down to who emotionally had the win.

It just matters that you broke the trust.

And now your things must come to dust.

Aging Youthfully w. Tact n Grace...I think I mightve found my place

A faded pacifier looms in the heavy laden memories of a pastime. I can no long hold on to the pacifism that resides in the things oh so forlorn. When you grow up, you mature gracefully and leave behind the childish things only holding on to them in the subconscious...the conscious mind being a sublime meld of wisdom and grace. It’s easy to latch on to the comfortable inevitable. Inside you find a warm contented space. And for however long it holds your pace you stay grounded. Grounded in the morals that supported you from infancy. Its called being an adult . And just because you have garnered this title does not mean it holds true to your essence. Your quintessence will always remain adolescence. Just because the days, months weeks, years are greater than your youth does not mean you cast away the burden of being asinine every once in a while. It means gathering every ounce of Saturday morning cartoon and funking a phony beguile. Who are you kidding? You’re no grown up. I'm a big goofy grumpy giddy gilded bewildered kid. My tongue lashes out at the dusty particles of snow drops that Baby Bop once told me were gum drops and bewildered dreams. We’ve been tricked into adulthood or so it seems. For the raunchy conservative, its all too surreal. His scandalous nature is busting at the seams. But an oxymoron doesn’t satisfy what society deems. Appropriate is what the measure is a gleam. We must age with tact, poise and grace.



I wish I had a blunt and a forty. At least it didn’t have to hide being naughty. It was naught, in the flesh, iron wrought. Id puff my dream into wonderland. Meet the bunny of my dreams. And push kick till all the ponder of life supersedes. Alas! My trance must cist and decease. Back to the tortures of realities.





Poetic Kass