emotions

The Art of the Art.

It would be nice for parents to allow their children to try things out before it becomes too late. Despite the Nigerian ‘, My child will be the one to bury me and not vice versa’, but children still die before their parents with little or nothing to show for being alive, to show they were here.

Family is trash and a bottle of water.

When she opened her legs, I knew it was happening, her breast was like hot chocolates drank in a rush, one that you hope doesn’t finish- she was smooth, smoother than most girls I have met, she said she wanted more and I was ready. I crave Lagos, like vagina or vodka, a way that should be explorative, one that should satisfy me, I want to walk by the beach with my hand in my hair, pulling through every stride, I  crave Lagos like the local jollof rice my grandma use to make, she uses local Maggi and lots of onions and dry fish, the palm oil had a different aroma, my grandma was a genius in the kitchen, why do people get old?

Cream.

Cream pour out of my body in cums, sleeping to a cat and a book.

She played with my vaginas with her toes, giggling.

I liked how she smiled- how she makes me hard.

She was to busy for me.

BLUE

I am blue, I am you, forget the baby and leave the woman to herself-

I want to be human or whatever.

I used to proud of my breast, now I hate it. I hate a lot of things; let me live through. I’m too young for what I am facing, I will take a picture of my naked self when I turn 22. Say a prayer for me or two. It is hard being a girl; I want to just be Human.

0715

I met a guy I liked, lets kiss I asked, I have being made church president he bragged. Too many religion down my path. I want to be a butterfly, I just want to perch and fly.