Monday, September 14, 2009


Thoughts shoot like sling shots in my direction. Revelations turning into resolutions, decisions to be made. I cannot rely on supposed to or understanding. Dialogue gets lost in the vernacular of the soul anyway. Feelings gravitate towards old corners where I fell to my knees while screaming as loud as I could to stop! Sigh & chuckle, memory. That was when I died. Even in my last breath, I fought to have my voice. Resurrection at the hand of determination, I bet Jesus would’ve applauded my moxy. I resuscitated my words a distance away, subconscious’ plan seeded years kinda knew this was how I’d survive. At some point I turned the running into running feet circling a jogger’s path and thought I was done escaping something. There are days when I think checking out is easier then staying present. Quick deaths over slow ones. But then it is the soul here speaking up. My soul. I don’t know why it always seems to be in contradiction with something. Familial heritage I suppose. My soul knows. My soul understands. My soul isn’t playing with impulsive rules anyway. My soul has always whispered truth in times of lies and contradictions. I am beginning to listen and not fight to slip into the molds of reinvented histories. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I take out the debate in the vernacular and begin to realize what is
m ssing.

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