You Belong Everywhere

I had them turn on the blue lights for a special reason.

Do you know why?

Do YOU know why?

No?

Let me tell you.

Because I'm sad.

I'm sad inside.

But I feel good on the outside.

And I've written a poem about it.

17-year-old Girls

“You’ve got to be honest for it to lock with me, it’s got to have real things – a night I’ve had or an experience you look back on and go, ‘I’m glad I put this somewhere.’”

Goodly Parents

Cause your momma is a worrier, and your papa is a warrior.

Falling in love with you all over again

I even be fantasizing about walking out on a green light just dying to get hit by a car just so I could lose my memory, get transported to some 3rd world country just to get treated, and then somehow meet up again with you so I could fall in love with you in a different language and see if it still feels the same.
-Shihan

Dreams...

Man. So here's the dream. Write.

That's it. I just want to write. I hate to fulfill the saying, those who can't do, teach. But I can't help it. If I could write full-time and make enough to support my family, I'd recycle my teaching degree and never look back. I hope that doesn't mean I'm going to be a crappy teacher.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

-Langston Hughes, "Harlem"