Anonymous asked: All your poems sound the same.

Thanks? haha
I’ve been trying to break this rhythm I’m caught in for a while now. I’ve been doing better with it, but most of my poems aren’t meant to be read, they’re meant to be spoken. So instead of posting them as texts, I might start posting videos. That might help you understand them better, because it definitely depends on how you read them.

I don’t usually write when I have a headache, but when I do, I name the poem Fuck You.

I have an instagram now! @littlekingjay

Chris: Maybe We Were

sheisapinkdarling:

When the distance between cities and

And buildings begin to grow on us.

And the space between the receiver and

The phone seems galaxies apart. 

I will remember the galaxies I found in your

Hands. You’d probably think I was crazy

But isn’t that in fact that soul of love.

If I was left with nothing but your hands

I would want to spend a lifetime with what

I could remember the most.  I remember the

Day you turned me into rain. We convinced

ourselves we were just a few miles

Apart. Now I want to crawl into your head just

lay there and have a lazy day. 

We want so much. Why is it always

Something we cannot have. I wish you thought

I was the reason you were in the world

I choose and decided to leave, turn you into a poem

So I can tell the world I had a best friend like you.

Chris, why did I love the impossibility of us.

Sometimes you have to admit when you’re in

Over head. It was the potential of everything

We could be and won’t be that broke me.

I think we’re just going to have to be secretly

In love with each other and leave it at that.  

But I will make my bed and lie in it with the

Words I never got to tell you.

We all lose. I won’t look back…

Will you?

Anonymous asked: Is the one about the breakup your own experience?

The one I just posted? nah.

Fuck You (I)

I said Fuck You.
Fuck you for throwing away my hoodie,
That shit cost me forty dollars,
and unless you’re going to pay for it,
which I doubt, that’s forty dollars I’m never getting back.
Fuck you telling my mom that I broke up with you,
She keeps bothering me about how you were such a nice girl,
and how our babies would’ve looked like something out of the Kardashian household,
which, frankly, seems like an insult.
Fuck you for telling your friends that I cheated,
When I definitely walked in on you,
sucking some other dude’s dick on my bed,
Does that sound familiar to you?
Fuck you for using my sheets,
I have to fucking sleep there…
Fuck you for laughing,
For looking me in the eye and telling me that no matter what I did,
I would never be able to love you as much as HE did,
and then proceeding to guffaw.
It stung.
Fuck you for walking away.
With each step, I slowly began to realize,
that these butterflies were actually moths,
Eating what I thought was love,
leaving nothing behind for me to remember.
Fuck you for leaving me with these pictures,
I said I wanted nothing to remember,
But I guess what I really want to say,
Is Fuck Me.
Fuck me for being there for you when you needed someone to hold your hand,
Fuck me for writing poem after poem for you, afraid to write anything,
because your beauty could never be put into words,
Fuck me for being your pillow through the nightmares,
the failures, the rejections, the sad movies, the deaths, the abandonments,
but mostly,
Fuck me for loving you. 

White

He said, “why do you speak so white?
Cause you a nigga, just like me.
Broken dialects ingrained in our family trees,
where the nooses still hang from the branches,
whip lashes on our backs let us know we never knew the answers,
and it’s like cancer, 
the longer you live, the more it spreads,
18 hour shifts, and no, they never broke no bread,
and now you wanna be them? Nah, nigga, I ain’t down,
got too much pride for myself, gotta hold my ancestry down.
So, instead,
I’ll adopt this jail cell mentality,
gotta get this guap so I can make my own reality.
Sag my pants low to show ‘em all this life is worth it,
Belt? What’s a belt?
Nigga, I’m doing this shit on purpose,
and yes, I know my grandma may be disappointed,
but its okay because I know all of my actions are anointed,
with this tatt up on my arm,
Jesus Christ, rest in piece,
ain’t got enough money for gas, but I’m bout to cop this quarter sleeve,
and yes, I was born in the modern day suburbs,
ones where gunshots were rarely ever heard,
and growing up… all these black kids called me nerd,
and these white kids called me oreo, man its so absurd,
So I changed myself to fit all of their needs and,
it gave me time to commit crime, I mean rhyme for a reason.
So I’m gonna ask you again,
Why do you talk so white?
Why do you act so white?
Act like things are all right?

So I said,
I act this way because I know what it means to be black,
To carry the dreams of thousands upon my shoulders,
straining under the weight, but never faltering,
and it seems to me, you may have forgotten,
Forgotten what it means to be a nigger…
But its okay…
One day, the rest of the world will remind you. 

i know i’m not the first person

criminallyinnocent:

to kiss down your body and
make you feel on top of the world
i can only retrace lines that
have already been drawn
with kisses on your skin
and your scent has been inhaled
by quite a few before me
no i don’t delude myself
by saying that i’m the first
but my god
i hope that i can be the last

(via napskinksandall)