My most recent scar is still healing. The gravel marks show on my skin in six parallel lines, like a pack of bubblegum sticks mushed inside of me. It itches so bad at night that I curse my blood for circulating. Yet really, I find it funny that I can hold myself drained and peeled in a bucket or two, and to think, I took such good care of you.
My Father killed two girls. His tongue is stained.
I think Nicki Minaj cries at night.
Are you still up?
My co-worker from Palestine always smiles at me. He has the cheeks of a baby. Every time I see him I think of the time I smacked my white Uncle across the face. I thought it was cool how his skin turned red. I still don’t know his name though. I’m bad with those.
Sketches coming in.
lucidityforall-deactivated20120 asked: Are you ok?
It’s interesting, how small I am. Even though my hands are shaking, the moon is still up, nobody has taken it down.
Experimental Short Film →
Directed and Filmed: Black Girl On A Bike.
Deal Tumblr World-- I've discovered a new part of...
I am learning how to skateboard, I said. When my Italian boss of about forty asked me who’s rickety skateboard was hogging the space behind the counter. He reminds me of a pitbull. He laughed but I could feel the tension in my thighs from four hours spent skating between the paths in the forest reservation. I’m trying to say, I want to become some force of nature on a four wheel...