Undressed Courtroom

I’ve learned that the witness of my expression, stands on trial. The judge and jury are those who whisper lies, in vain deceit! They speak the very accusation of their nature, they have not spoken the essence of what is opposite of their being. The courtroom begs for silence – as the wild arguments pursue on the tables of contract. Our pains come to intimidate us because in the face of suffering it seems like the only fate.

The law is still given in the hindsight of what is already in our minds. We can clearly speak to the writing that comes to keep us condemned. I’ve closely examined the passion that belongs to personal intimacy. Just, alone in the courtroom – Surrounded by your own fragrance & melody. As you hear these dripping sounds, taste the tip of your tongue. You stand undressed in the courtroom, and no one is embarrassed but the witness of expression.

Image

I can’t say that I am surprised, at the accusations. However, I’m finally able to say: The judicial consequence is not punitive – rather restorative.

Irreconcilable Volumes (Hair)

Image
Then there is a variation in how things are perceived. When someone exhales what they truly believe and know based on evidence – the road becomes more narrow as the conversation takes flight. Not all volumes are reconciled when a conversation begins to trickle in the individual opposition. Instead of reacting with ferocious and maneuvering counteracting, what’s best is to present, the internal realities, which often times are dismissed. When playing the rhythm in a setting that is confirmed to rhythmic sequence.
It is not surprising to find the melody. It is, therefore, wise to clarify, the organs and functions that are often forgotten, in the name of lunacy and incoherence. The troubling taunts which pierce the thought; quantify immeasurable blindness. It is in pure joyful sounds which dare to risk comfortable statues. Every volume of inclination, citation, desperation, litigation, and exhalation is immersed in a bowl of anticipated pairing.
Yet a longing for intimacy is requested. Since there is no finalization of union; one is free to enter a space where another can come into union.
Even when you break it down, sometimes things still don’t fully ‘Click’ and measure to a sense of understanding. I’ve been looking in the mirror quite more often because I got a shape UP only a 3 days ago, and I feel like it was one of the worst decisions of my life. My hair just seemed to be working UP a good fro, and this shape UP, seemed to cut off a great deal of it off, but then I look again and I think my mind just does not want to reconcile with the change I made.
Image
^^ This was taken only 6 days ago, and my Afro seemed to be in reconciliation with my expectation! Since my LAST shape UP, which was in April.
I still don’t truly understand why we get shape Up’s’ it’s told they help the hair grow faster and gets rid of the dead ends, but apparently, they also make you feel like you have no hair at all! I did not get much of my hair cut, but it feels like SO much is gone. Although, when I look in the mirror, the eye can’t really say much is gone. My mind is separated from this volume. I took a picture earlier today, to measure if there is such a change and eye can’t see that BIG of a difference.
Image
It’s been on my mind as of late and I just wanted to share how hair, while being something with levels of volume, can sometimes be irreconcilable. You hear about this happening all the time when you regret cutting your hair because you miss it. I miss the little more I had, but it’s only a matter of time before it grows back. ALL of it, and MORE!
At least, I can realize that was THE LAST SHAPE UP, EVER! I’ll grow my hair until it comes out. I think we were meant for the Afro, so mine ain’t going nowhere! 😀

Consequential Replay

Image

Open the door, that leads to the corners of the alley.

You’ll then see a cat and when she lurks around your composition – you’ll find a nervous sensation!

Be careful to charm the legs of suspense because they look too warm you through their lingering.

Every when night you go to sleep – they appear in dreams reminding you of the boy you once were.

Being very earnest to play with every living creature that came your way.

The intimacy that comforts you in the pillows and sheets gives you the indication of excited passions.

When she settles down in your desires, you become governed by the will to replay it again.

Looking down to write down more of this story – the archive of already established stories hovers your mind.

You are reminded of the effect this magic exhales upon you. Time and focus again; you find yourself, continually a part of the consequence of transmission.

She’s the one behind the magic who merely comes as the mirage of fantasy.

Everyone knows how she tastes – the fascinating lullaby that makes all children close their eyes in the midnight hours.

The composure of replay gives back the lost reason, a home that is to be remembered.

I’ve experienced this quite recent, being haunted by the familiar cat.  I’ve taken a break onto social indulgence because of the heaviness of what is going on. I’ve been reminded by the focus of her obsession that there is a story that covers the mind! It’s been like a replay, but my home is no longer there, I desire to fall into the grace of a magical place!