In Sync

What's your address, Misery Lane? I'm just playing. I stay out of that hood. I don't want my neighbors to hold grudges like me. I'm learning how to behave. That old American way.

I was told by a rich man: "Blacks don't get to the billions because they're greedy for the wrong things."

We have to address these issues before we move, because careless living turns dream homes into wastelands.

Intimacy is fierce and angry, like a man trying for a woman who cries wolf, then opens herself to be wounded. I'll give you my marrow, hold it in your life source, and help heaven come to earth.

Real men hold the motherload, and still uplift until you sneak and shift to loosen our grip. When we let go, you say it's our fault.

I want nothing more than to respond and take account for the mess. The dinner table is full, but everybody eats like they want to be somewhere else. Closed by distance of laying near empty love. I want good pussy and a tender hug, like your caring ain't just for show.