Water Colors


this ain't for everybody. it's for me. i don't know why i feel good when i post my life in such filterless ways. its almost like standing at the edge of a cliff and screaming it out when i say it in writing, instead of calling one of my homegirls. feels refreshing but then it gets awkward if i allow y'all's whispers to get too loud. but momentarily, i have muted your thoughts about me and mine. i see essays in the form of water colored paintings about my queen mother. my mother. she doesn't want to be saved ... her highs are euphoria and i can't blame her for chasing them everyday.. maybe she gets closer to Spirit when she's high. she understands what many don't, that we don't need anything in this world. she has nothing. she lost it all and keeps losing, just to achieve that peak. chemical bliss. with no materials save for a lighter and glass. a beautifully selfish soul. yet she gave. gave life to 3. powerful number. i was number two. from her womb she bore my blackest struggles. selflessly she left me. left me to see what i could be if i decided to chase my high as well. mine comes from teaching. i see God in my children. i know she sees God in hers too. thats why she runs from us. can't even look at us. curses us. i don't equate my worth to her inability to love me or choose me over her manic episodes. her black magic. she's out her mind, literally. and truly, i can do nothing but respect it. reign supreme my beautiful addict. your demise is my glory. her demise. my glory.

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