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Her name was Peanut

kay     A gypsy put me onto some information that elevated the confines of reality society created for me. We are two different variations of black but when our worlds meet they collide like two spirits astral projecting back into the same host. I’ve never experienced oxygen outside her space since I experienced depths in her eyes. Light years of knowledge just taking up storage yet so eager to share. Fashion music in silence surrounded by violence baby I’m fluent too. Influenced by you I speak in the tongues of our Mother Africa like sounds of Congo drums supporting visions of the Serengeti. Moonlight serenading electricity between the two defying any gravitational pull. Thunder doesn’t strike twice is a metaphor God used to paint you into my blueprint as the one for me. Revolutionaries envy the soil of my flesh for you have been the beacon of progress enveloped as a human entity. Your soul gives off smoke signals as I kiss your third eye cause it’s no lie in your fire. I am your protector however you looked me deeply just to say that you were there to save me by multiplying everything I am. The exchange of power is why I’m in love with you my strength and weakness all wrapped in to one being her name was Peanut.

 

 

She left fingerprints across the sky, I inhale fragments of her presence as if she were still here. Engulfed in former memories that repeats in my conscience like this hallucination could produce a single segment of reality. A laugh,kiss, presence or an angelic voice that translate alanguage you seem … Continue reading