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Mind as well waste this ink before it’s dry

Mind as well do something worthwhile

While wasting all this time

Mind as well if I can’t forget,

And got too much weighing down my mind.


Mind as well write it out,

Mind as well try, right?

Mind as well get it all out.

Always feels so stuck up, on the inside.


Mind as well open up,

Mind as well spill my guts.

Mind as well right? So no need to sober up.

Mind as well build it up,

Forget you may fuck it up,


Mind as well suck it up.

Mind as well, you lazy fuck.

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Not really the type to just settle.

Bedroom antics are one thing-we’re all animals with needs, after all.

Savages until sunrise.

No one really wants to wake-up next to a hyena full of guilt, ready to run quicker than the predecessor.

All of us in the kingdom want some physical contact.

It’s not human nature, it’s just plain ol’ basic-fucking-nature, after all.

Yet, I’ve learned it’s best to not wake a sleeping beast.

Somehow better off domesticated, even with a wild heart.

We’re all much safer with a loving owner and a home to get fed in, after all.

Feeling feral these days.

Leaving all these lesbians, bi-curious straight women, girls with boyfriends, girls with girlfriends and wives to be alone, to roam on their own.

I don’t need their problems just as much as they don’t need mine.

We’re all too wild for each other.

Too much trouble.

It’s dangerous to act off that animilastic ID side.

Someone will get eaten.

It is survival of the fittest, after all.

Haven’t you ever read “Lord of the Flies”?

Feel we’ve all grown to be more civil than beating others to death with a rock, but maybe we don’t all see it that way at the end of the day.

All these paired up couples make me think maybe we don’t, after all.

Cave-men clubbing their prizes and cashing in once their back at their caves.

The positive, glass-is-never-half-full-but-it’s-full-of-beer side of me, hopes that they’ve found their mate to help them survive.

The counter-part.

The ying to their yang.

Lucky folks, I’d consider them.

There’s no need to be scorned over a lack of finding your own two-dog hunting pack.

Some of us are lone wolves.

Food for thought.

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It’s either easy picking, or too arrogant, sitting alone in the corner, just hoping that you’d grab me by the shoulder and pull me in like she used to.

Not one of you will be quite like her.

You’re all your own beasts, in my book, but I miss her.

In so many ways.

The way she hooked me by the eyes with a look of desire, a look of need.

It was fucking heartbreaking.

It was hard to overlook the pure love in those damn eyes.

I could see them in the day-break, when the sun rested and her pupils grew.

I could see them in the dawn, when the skies rose and her irises sparkled bright.

I could see she loved me, and I could see when she stopped.

It was fucking heartbreaking, I tell you.

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Always seeking something more.

It’s never enough.

Yet, it always exhausts me,

Each and every task,

Menial or monumental.

It’s an up-hill battle.

But I’m a warrior.

A fighter.

A winner.

A mighty strong woman!

A restless one, at that.

It’s not possible to get enough sleep, ever.

There’s never enough hours in the day to accomplish it all,

The goals just pile higher.

While the guilt for not accomplishing grows twice as fast.

Will it ever get done?

Should it prevent you from dreaming further?

Skies the limit, baby.

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Minneapolis is dope because you can step foot into any random locally owned food spot and all of a sudden there’s a spur of the moment open mic night. There’s so many reasons to be inspired, all around us here. No wonder we move like such a cohesive unit, especially when the winter comes. We have that rate community that supports one another. We buy local. Shop local. Dine local. Together, we thrive. At least, that’s how it feels in this eccentric community I’ve become jelled within. The one Uptown bestows. Wedged between Downtown Minneapolis and a whole chain of lakes.

It’s not home, yet, it’s not most of our homes here, so we treat it with the respect that this has become our home.

We co-exist. We’re a unit. We’ve got each others backs.

Once, our apartment started on fire, right in the heart of the Whittier neighborhood, and soon all of the nearby residents crowded the scene with offers of help through hugs and cat carriers for the displaced pets. That night, any doubts I had about being accepted into this community ceased, and now I make damn sure to give the girl down the street a dollar whenever she’s out there trying to earn her snacks, even if I don’t want the lemonade. We take care of each other, because the world has shown us that no one else will.

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Don’t think you’re not on my mind.

I’ve been thinking of you every day.

Nightly too, I must admit.

Assume you already know.


Kept pretending you’d be back.

Acted like it was a known fact.

Truthfully, I knew reality.

Except, I don’t like to admit that.


Dug deeper than you needed.

I know that you’ve got to feel it.

Not what your eyes are used to seeing.

Age might be too far between us.


Keep saying it’s all relative, time will tell.

Act like it’s enough but we know so well.

Total change is in your future.

Enough of this, you’ve got no clue what you’re doing.

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Gonna make you all proud before I hit the pavement.

Gonna leave a mark, make some kind of statement.

Gonna make some change, help better our failing nation.

Gonna keep breathing, slowly, when I’m anxious.

Gonna sort this out, just takes some rearranging.

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Here’s a blank margin.

Better fill it in!

Better start something!

Better not just end!

And to make sure of that,

Please, start and finish it in pen.

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This was once a tree providing oxygen.

Funny enough, it’s still allowing those stuck far in their heads, like myself, some kind of breathing room.

Least I can do is inhale and exhale some ink onto this.

I owe it to the oaks.

Promises made to pines.

Breakthroughs made on birch.

Filled up firs.

Thankful for these trees that keep me at ease.

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The history here is old as old gets.

Some of these buildings existed when Jesus supposedly was practicing party tricks.

The Emperors had aqueducts, and JC had a pension for transforming their life source into vino.

The men who built these forums, the Roman peacocks of their time, all seemed to compete over who’s was the biggest. Who’s was the most intricate. Who’s was built-in a single day. Who’s was most durable for the test of time.

Fuck. Even in 85AD men were having big dick swinging competitions.

No one here was driving soft-top F150’s to show-off.

Maybe all the Italians dicks are just plain ol’ bigger than Americans dicks all around, though statues like David admit that they had chodes back then, too.

Just as tiny, just as flaccid and probably just as unable to please a majority of women.

It’s clear that men have never put much focus on pleasing women in any culture, save for maybe France, and the rest of the world deems them as pussies. I’d say, they actually got and probably deserved more pussy than the rest of the world with that kind of mentality in such a misogynistic world.

Their men came from one of the few cultures where they didn’t have to take women by force, like some cro-magnum type character that was content with clubbing chicks over their heads and dragging them back to their caves.

At least, I don’t think they did. Willingly admit, I’m fairly uninformed and ignorant beyond my own bubble, though this trip has been eye-opening.

2017 is a good time to be a woman, all things considered.

We often forget that but this European journey has been a solid reminder that Trump and Pence aren’t as bad as Mussolini and Franco were.

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