Somber
I think about death often. Not the rot. Not the ritual. The way it sits in the room while you're laughing. The smiles you make. The pain you carry. The color of your car. The song you can't stop playing. None of it goes with you.…
Mercyless
The real you, gets you hated. The open heart, gets you hurt. The extended hand, gets you killed. And still, your enemies remain the same. Your friends always change. The mercy of hatred— it never pretends to be anything else.…
Karma
I don't believe in evil that's a lazy frame A word men use to dodge the weight of blame No devils in the details, just decisions made The hand that held the knife don't get to call it fate But good? I've…
Never Mistake My Kindness For Weakness
You smile for them. The mask holds. Your truth stays buried and so you continue. You walk past me, handing your insecurities to others like offerings, tried to climb through me, fed them lies like currency, made your moves in boardrooms and hallways, and still, nothing shifted. But behind closed…
Anger is a gift
You'll learn this. Not when I move—when you realize I haven't. The watching is the wound.…
Diamonds
Diamonds not the stone, the doctrine Fortune I can taste like copper on my tongue Out in the open where the wolves run Every empire's just a casket coming undone I crave what pharaohs couldn't bury deep enough The gleam ain't greed, it'…
Hymns Together
They gather to share what they were given hymns passed down like heirlooms, faith worn soft from handling. I sat among them once. Mouthed the words. Waited for the burning, the flood, the still small voice. Nothing. Just the sound of my own breath and the congregation rising without me.…
Dance With The Devil
Come to the altar, and be rejected, as a liar's facade never remains solid. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But if you get too close, beware, they are dancing with the devil in a ballroom of their own making. Die a liar. Be remembered as one.…
We Arrive With Nothing
We build temples out of paychecks. Altars of leather seats and square footage. We hang diplomas like saints on the wall and call it arrival. The hungry years. The proving. The more, the almost, the finally. We gnaw the hours down to bone for things that will forget our names…
The Wool on the Ground
Years in every circle. Wherever trust gathers, he found a seat. He learned the handshake. Memorized the hymn. Spoke the language of belonging without ever belonging. But the body knows what the mind excuses. One by one, the doors stopped opening. The invitations thinned. The seats beside him emptied without…