Habitual

Addiction – the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma (Dictionary. com)

The words never come. They get lost on the journey, somewhere in the pride.

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Knowing better but fearing the worst. Mouth closed and unfed. Body clothed but wasting away. Mind chaotic and unresponsive.

The worries fester. Not enough smiles to hide behind. The truth creeps closer. Reality settles.

Can’t take the denial or accept the truth. Can’t speak out.

Sweating. Dry mouth. Shivering. Nothing left. Take my last sober breath.

And relapse. 

Departure

When you are in any situation and you feel like you can’t escape, be faithful and believe you can make it to the next level.
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Wandering around this cage. Barely living. Enraged by the lack of caring. Downplayed by my lack of experience. Uninformed and easily replaced. Loyalty isn’t regularly used in the vocabulary. No rolls more smoothly off the tongue.

No peace or silence. Ringing continues in my ears. Never ceasing. Never really listening. Only speaking that morphs into screaming that spins into words of profane context.

Weapons drawn but never used. Refuse to fall into the trap with the others, lost and abused.

My escape will come soon. Not now but don’t blink. While they’re still in this cage. I’ll be walking away. Barely breathing. But still in tact.

The Wait Staff…

If you get a chance take it. Don’t forsake it because if someone else gets it because you didn’t. It’s worse than failing because you’ll never know what could of been. Me

Reality’s bombardment.
The happiness drifts. The stress rises.

Only ankle deep so I could still walk away. But I don’t. I’ll just stay and see how high it rises for another day.

Dwindling at my 9-5 from 10-7. In and out. Unimportant but of high irrelevance.

Not really living but just breathing. Not really dreaming just sleeping. In my hermit stage, too afraid to show out and take a chance.

More afraid that my consistantly mundane every day may be taken away, than excited to reach the uncertain goals I’ve set into play.

Questioning.

What to do??? Or how should I say…??? Where to go??? Or is it safer to just stay???

Waiting for inspiration to speak. But apprehension sets in. What would I do if it tells me to go???

Hearing my life come closer I tried to stop listening. Can’t it wait for tomorrow or any other day.

Am I truly ready??? Or should I continue to run out of change???

Does it pay to see what’s out there??? Or is the familiar and comfort worth more to me???

If I know the world waits for no one, why am I expecting it to wait on me???

How long will the world stop spinning to let me figure out the answers to all my executive decisions???

That may be the only answer I know for certain. 

The world waits for no one, especially on a day like today. 

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IAdvIse: LipSmackers

You learn more/grow more/relate more when you listen more, speak less and subject the concepts/ideals you internalize to some contrasting arguments.

We only progress when we can accept a challenge. We only fool ourselves if we believe we have all the right answers to all our own questions.

The Definition of Fine Print

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Written words with such power; their presence lingers even after the ink dries.

Thoughts illuminated on a background of sheer white.

All that was unsaid, left on a ticking sheet ready to explode upon reading.

Written words with such passion;leaving remnants of faith, inspiration and invigorating change.

Daunting to the oppressor, threatening the psychological powers once held. While empowering the minds of the oppressed, their eyes swoon and their hearts are filled.

Written words motivate The Resistance.

Igniting an intellectual blaze only to be extinguished by social justice and equality.

Written words with such purity, exposing the truth to the masses in an eloquent brillance.

The truth of the greatness that could be.

The greatness exuded from silent strength, from sleepless nights, from incessant insistence that the humble, the meek and the downtrodden shall inherit due rewards.

With faith, conviction, ability and morality those written words are personified. Their meanings are magnified.

And The Movement is brought to life radiating an effervescent light onto all whom remain in the darkness.

Written words tell The Movement to stand, lift its hands and reach out to every living, breathing being and upon arrival begin to teach.

Watch as those written words keep multiplying. As the written words walk in great strides, off the pages and into the streets.

Then the work towards a better tomorrow for young and old, every background and skin tone will be greater than the battle we fight separately towards a future left dim and bleak.

Stimuli vs Boundaries

Time with one’s self is some kind of inspiration. It clears space for your mind to wander and imagine in every direction. There’s a new category for my posts, just for the ones like this…

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Eyes open. Sweat sparkles through the darkness.

Heat expands and muscles contract. Uncertainty is masked by intrigue.

No turning back.

We’ve crossed the line marked in the sand.

No longer in between us, it lies under us.

Forever engraved into our memory banks.

Complete consumption with no separation;

Separate forms morph into one sensuous motion.

No more lustful thoughts only provocative actions,

deep breaths and stiffled exhales.

Blood rushes, hearts pound, Hands clasp, teeth clench, toes curl

and peaks are reached.

Apartment D: The Arbors, My Home

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Sometimes my thoughts get so loud, I can’t escape my thinking. Sometimes the bills pile so high, I think I may drown before I’ll ever reach the top. Sometimes the fridge is empty and the cupboards are bare. Sometimes my stomach growls and there’s only water to quiet the rumbling. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t where I am, that my situation were different. That I were comfortable. Sometimes… until I’m reminded of where I could be.

I’m reminded that the space around me is just that. It’s only space. It’s not negative to my mindset. It’s not trapping me physically. It’s pushing me mentally. It motivates me to do more, to become more. Not just for better surroundings. Not just to enter a home with crown molding and granite countertops. Or a home with vaulted ceilings and mounted flat screens.

My space inspires me to live in a realm that speaks of my accomplishments. My space not adorned with very much, only a touch of furniture here and there; my simple apartment portrays the life of a minimalist. Living to dream. Dreaming to InspIre. And inspiring to bring about great change.

My space is clean and quiet. Full of the necessities and lacking some, as well. But my space speaks of my journey. That my journey isn’t yet complete. I have come a long way but truthfully my journey has only begun.

So as I tuck myself in and see the few shadows that dance across my walls. I’ll remember this space and this time. I’ll keep this as a memory. As a trajectory that catapults me into a new place where I’m meant to be. Where I’m meant to motivate and meticulously manipulate a race of forward moving, progressive thinking members of humankind.

Not stuck on stereotypes, status quo or statistics. But determined to break molds, question society’s standards and break through barriers with intellect.

That’s the legacy that will come from me. That’s what I’ll leave behind for the world to see. A true experience almost as powerful as living where my pantry may stay empty but my spirit always stays so full.