I used to, but now I don’t

I used to touch you,
But now I don’t have to,
‘Cus now we hold machines,
I used to trust you,
But now I don’t need to,
Now we rely on machines,
I used to love you,
But now I don’t want to,
‘Cus we want machines

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Redemption

Is life supposed to stop because I did something horrible? Well, here’s the real horrible truth. No matter what I do or how bad I feel about it, life just goes on. Life doesn’t give a fuck that I’m sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. Life just goes on, and I got to go on with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for myself. And I don’t see myself doing that. I’m not evil. Everything that I have done… and my faith was still pure. When I spoke words of prayer, they were just as real to me as when I memorized them in church all those years ago when I still exuded a clandestine innocence. The words still moved me. I never doubted God. I doubted myself. But maybe God was a more generous God than I allowed Him to be. I faced the demon with my faith and prayer. Does that mean God has forgiven me of my sins? I don’t know. If He has truly forgiven me, then He’s more magnanimous than I’ll ever be.

Jane The Virgin S5E1 Monologue

I have binge-watched every episode of Jane the Virgin. I am up-to-date as of right now on season 5 episode 1 that aired yesterday. There was a 7 1/2 minute monologue that Jane did expressing how she’s trying to cope with Michael’s return. It destroyed me. I broke down seeing her like that. That’s how I get when I’m really upset. She exuded symptoms of mania, and Gina Rodriguez should get an Emmy just for this scene alone. It expressed exactly how she felt about Michael returning from the dead. If you’ve seen every episode like I have and then watched this scene, you’ll understand, with context, the importance and the raw emotion emanating from this monologue. I’m going to miss Jane the Virgin. This is the last season. And it’s starting off at a really great note.

(I have no rights to this footage)

Routines: Good or Bad?

Do you think everyone benefits from a routine? Why or why not?

            I appreciate how dense this compact question is. I think there are advantages and disadvantages to adhering to a routine. Before I answer this question in a most subjective yet rational way, I would like to state why routines garner such benign and detrimental aspects in one’s day-to-day life.

Routines are predictable, safe, and adaptive to one’s individual place in the world. It is easy to abide by something that is so trivial. Little thought and energy is given to doing things that one normally does. Routines allows one to experience a sense of safety and security, reassurance, especially in times of discomfort or distress. It is like a safety net, something to fall back on, and something to rely on. One’s comfort zone is a place of familiarity and tranquility. It distills the pressures that life presents, the uncertainty of the future, and the fear that follows close behind.

On the other hand, routines can also refrain one from trying new things or explore differing realms of understanding the world. People genuinely fear the unknown and constructing routines is a way one adapts to the changes that life presents us. Routines can render us from taking necessary risks. They could dissuade us from breaking free of complacence. There is a whole world out there to interact with, to learn from, to experience, but routines can ultimately hold us back from fully harnessing our potential.

To say the least, the most sensible answer I can come up with is moderation. It is perfectly healthy to construct and modify routines from time to time. However, taking a leap of faith sometimes is a great way to grow as a person, even if we make the wrong choices, especially if we make the worst choices. Perhaps more primitive things like waking up, taking a shower, brushing your teeth, etc. is a beneficial routine while something like driving the same route to work or even rushing straight home after work rather than trying something new could essentially prevent one from fully enjoying life. I think I should practice what I preach. I am a creature of habit. I don’t know, maybe everyone is. But does everyone benefit from a routine? Sometimes. Sometimes we do.

Open Your Mind

I close my eyes to feel everything

How long has it been since you exiled me into a land of desolation?
How many times did you repress your memories of me into submission?
How often did you reassure me that I could be myself
As long as I had achieved your quintessential expectations?

I don’t need you to respect me
‘Cus I respect me,
Nor do I need you to love me
‘Cus I love me,
But I want you to know
That you can get to know me,

If you would just open your mind

Breath of Death

Entombed within the roots of the mother

Reaching for a star feeling smothered

She provides all the nutrients you need

But you choose not to breathe

For every breath is paradise

You crave an early demise

Succumb to the entrenched

In her tears you will be drenched

Pools of salted crimes

By men throughout time

Man can’t avoid being pulled into the earth

Only time keeps you from the demiurge

You do nothing but wait for termination

Reaching for a constellation

So desperate to abscond the truth

This miasma will be the death of you too

Greater Than The Sum Of Their Parts

My mother held the Qur’an,

Condemning me to hell,

My father wore saffron,

Nowhere to be found,

Religious zealot,

With such a closed mind,

Criminal derelict,

Lacks the holy and divine,

Rebuke social deviance,

Perhaps conformity is wrong,

Mens rea to actus reus,

Behind bars for so long,

A hijab I do not wear,

Nor do I commit torts,

I am greater,

Than the sum of their parts

XROTICA: Grindr Saved My Life

I’ve been using these gay hookup apps for years now. It used to be a source of satisfaction for my sex addiction. Hell, it still is! It was a way to fill the empty void on lonely nights. I had downloaded them and then deleted them over and over again all this time. And in between those periods of deletion and reactivation, I have met many guys on my travels.

Amongst those people was this black guy I’d like to call: Popo.

I initially met him on Grindr. At the time he was just a blank profile before I asked him for a face picture and brought him to life. The whole conversation goes “hey how are you doing?,” followed by “are you a top or a bottom?,” followed by “do you host or travel?,” followed by an informal request for nude pictures of one another, and finally, the sacred promise to show up at my place.

I was living in my first apartment at the time. It was a very small studio and it was around the time that I got my pet cat from a mutual friend of my former sister-in-law. Her friend was weird, to say the least, but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, Popo showed up and I retrieved him from the bottom of the staircase of my apartment complex.

I had my punch bowl full of condoms and lubricant packets accompanied by some splendid homosexual pornography reverberating proudly in the background. He came by and at first, there was a bit of tension. The initial nervousness when two strangers decide to share and entwine their bodies with each other for an unpredetermined amount of time. Then, I submitted to my knees and stuffed my face with his inflated extension.

Okay, let me paint you a picture to describe Popo. He was around 5’9″ or 5’10,” dark complexion, shaved head, various tattoos etched permanently to blend in with his mocha skin, an average build, and a face shaped like a guitar pick. At the time he was working construction, and he was in his uniform. The uniform consisted of overalls, over a white tank top, and some black steel toe boots to complete the ensemble.

It was a nice summer day. The birds were chirping and the sunlight spilled through my blinds. His dick got bigger as I rubbed up on his ass. It was clenched as fuck. Nigga didn’t want me to play with it. I respected that so I continued to slurp on that muthafucka. I was making all kinds of sucking noises. Popo began to moan when I covered my lips over my teeth and held on really tight before moving very slowly on the shaft down to the base of his BBC, nibbling a little throughout the journey downward. Then, I rushed back up just to cruise back down again. And again, again, again… Popo’s knees got wobbly and he couldn’t maintain his balance so he proceeded to sit on my queen-sized bed. It’s so fucking hot when a man doesn’t have that muffin top that I can never seem to get rid of myself. My hands explored his chest, his nipples, and his brownie tray full of abs.

The funny thing was that Popo was allergic to cats. And thank God he informed me of his allergies prior to his arrival. I managed to lock her in the bathroom along with her litter box and food/water bowl. The cat scratched on the bathroom door as a desperate attempt to escape confinement. It scared Popo half to death and I paused and laughed really loud. Obviously, I apologized for my obnoxious outburst the second I realized I did it. But he flipped me over and laid on top of me. He spit on my hole and completely ignored the punch bowl of condoms several feet away. Men can be so sensitive.

Popo shoved himself into my guts and I yelped like a little bitch. I like a man who takes what he wants. He grasped my wrists and forced me to stay still and take it. My bed began to creak in a melodious rhythm, loud enough to drown out the ruckus my cat was making in the next room over. I had to turn my head to the side just to steady my breathing because nigga took my breath away. Suddenly, he pulled at my wrist, urging me to sit up and he ordered me to lay on my back.

This time, he clasped my ankles and forced my legs behind my head and resumed my impalement. Popo made me jerk myself off and he said I better shoot my load on my face or I’ll be sorry. I love being sorry!

“Oh, daddy! Fuck me, nigga! Fuck me!” I exclaimed before shattering into a million pieces.

That turned him on completely as he pumped himself inside me at break-neck velocity…

Since then, I lost track of how many times we fucked. Eventually, he let me fuck him and eat his ass out too, which I never thought a masculine man like him would let me do. Once we taped a video of me giving him head before he started to eat my ass out. It was a beautiful video. I still have it in the Cloud. But when I feen for the dick, my eyes get all cockeyed so I don’t watch it as much as I would have otherwise. I should’ve worn my eye patch that day. Come to think of it, I haven’t worn my eye patch in a couple years now. Wow.

Four years had passed and he was still a regular fuck buddy of mine. But when I deleted Grindr for what seemed like for good, I lost touch with him. It’s been at least six months.

The other night, I was fucking with this white thugaboo from downtown. Let’s call him Whitey. I met Whitey on Plenty of Fish and his profile said he was straight. But these dudes always come to me when they’re curious, it seems. He said for me to pick him up a block away from his crib so his girl won’t find out. He lives only 10 minutes away so I was like fuck it. Whitey hood as fuck and that made me wet. So after I picked him up, he had me stop over at his boy’s place to pick up some caine.

I drove us back to my place. I served us some beer, he served us some lines, and he made me shave my pubes. But Whitey was nervous. And he was low-key sweet cus he ended up shaving my pubes for me. Then he said that if I shave my ass too, that he would eat it. But it was late and I was tired so I didn’t feel like shaving my ass. That would have taken at least an hour. No, I’m exaggerating, but not by much.

So Whitey was a bit taller than me. Maybe like 5’8″. He had tattoos all down his arms and back. And he was hairless. He shaved all his pubes and ass and chest and armpits before he suddenly came into my life for a very brief time. He wore a fitted cap, a black hoodie, a Punisher t-shirt, jeans, black and white sneakers, and a lot of jewelry. Dude could have been a drug dealer easily. He was kind of a ginger. And his eyes were as blue as day. I usually don’t go for white guys especially one that’s around my age. However, he had an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and this dude’s Eminem vibe had me horny as hell. His voice was very deep so I mimicked his voice so that he wouldn’t think I was just some femme bitch.

Turns out that he had a lot of pent-up faggot desire in him. He LOVED it when I ate his ass out. He literally made me eat it for hours. We snorted some lines, inhaled some poppers, and drank Coronas every chance we got. I even snorted caine off his dick. I even licked it off his ass until my mouth was numb.

Whitey climbed over me and started to suck my dick real good. So I sat up a bit and I started to eat him out while alternating with slurping his pink cock. He tasted so fucking good. He said he got all nice and clean just for me and I thanked this dude for his patronage. Sometimes, I would just stop what I’m doing and stretch his ass cheeks apart just to admire how beautiful his hole was. His balls were nice and plump and hairless. I licked him from the tip of his dick, up his shaft, on his balls, traced my tongue up the line that led to his hole, and just plunged in there face first. I did this thing with my mouth where I made it like a vacuum cleaner. I pursed my lips together in a wide O shape and simply inhaled through my mouth like a suction cup as I hovered through his cheeks, tailbone, and his light brown hole. Next, I clenched my teeth lightly on his hole and sucked it dry.

This thug was moaning like a little fucking pussy. There were some tender moments where he went to the kitchen sink to get himself a glass of water and he told me to come over there. He leaned his moist ass towards the apex of my thighs. I wrapped my arms around him and caressed his thighs and kissed his neck. He sighed softly as if he never been intimate with a man before but yearned for it for a long time. Poor baby. I almost felt bad for him cus he would have to go back home to his clueless girlfriend. Almost.

By then, I was so fucking high on caine and drunk on beer. Whitey went on all fours on my bed and told me to fuck him. Nigga ain’t gotta tell me twice. That’s consent. I was gonna put a condom on but Whitey insisted I get his sexy ass pregnant. I planted my right leg on the bed and tapped my dick lightly on his hole to try to get it hard. He warned me in a whiny, bitch voice to go slow cus he never been fucked before. I assured him that he was in good hands.

I plunged into him one inch at a time til the porno playing in the background took the place of his silence. I pretended the moans from the bottom boy on TV belonged to Whitey and that thought really turned me on. Whitey was a silent fucker. I wished he would grunt or something. When a guy is silent, I start to feel insecure, like I’m not big enough or some shit. With one free hand, I increased the volume on my television set. I pressed his back down so he was arching his back at an angle where I could feel the head of my penis rub right on the inner wall of his anus. The remote control was thrown haphazardly on a pile of clothes and I used that hand to hold his left leg in place. Soon enough, I felt the pressure build inside me and I jammed myself into himself faster before yelling and squirting everywhere!

Four hours… From 11pm to 3am, we resided within a trip as hazy as shit. I felt more relaxed than I ever had in years. We grabbed our clothes off my hardwood flooring and exited with very few words uttered between there after.

Fifteen minutes later, after dropping Whitey off at a bodega that apparently was open 24/7, I drove up the road while drunk and high as fuck. A police car idly followed close behind but I guess the caine was an anxiety repellent because I wasn’t freaking out at all. I’m usually a very anxious person and a cop lingering in my rear view mirror would have made me reach for my asthma pump real quick.

I made a left turn in downtown and suddenly, the police sirens broke the eerie silence of the night. Red and blue lights blinded me and I was forced to pull over in the shoulder of the road. I parked my Honda Accord and activated my hazards lights. I recall that I was insanely calm as the police officer walked into my side view mirror.

“You know why I stopped you?”

“No…”

“No? Okay… License and registration.”

I reached into my glove box and my wallet and gave him what he wanted.

He looked at my license and then glanced at me for a split second before retreating into his ostentatious vehicle.

His partner suddenly appeared at my passenger side door. I pulled the window down and what do you know? It was Popo!

Holy shit! Dude looked sexy as fuck in his police uniform. Mmmmmmmmmm. Popo smiled at me and asked me if I remember him. He accusing me of having a feeble memory! I reassured him that I DEFINITELY can recall his presence. Then, Popo asked me for my phone number. I was hesitant for some reason. I thought he only needed it for police business, but he let me know it was for his eyes only. So fuck it, I gave it to him. Then, I looked through my driver door window and then back at him before I said:

“Do I gotta suck some dick to get out of this? Cus I will if I have to.”

I left out the part where I was open to sucking them both off. Didn’t want him to feel some type of way.

“No, that’s not necessary. This is my career and I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

I respected that. He sounded so serious. That shit got me wet as fuck.

“But I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell my partner that we grew up together and that I used to play football with your brother. The most that could happen is that you’ll get a ticket and you just plead not guilty and pay the fine. Least that could happen is you get a verbal warning and be off on your way. So to make a valid story, you do have a brother, right?”

I told him I did. I told both my brother’s and my full name just in case Popo’s partner gets suspicious. Then, he walked back to the cop car.

I sat there in deafening silence for what seemed like a hour, but I’m sure it was a lot less than that. I waited, and waited… until both of them showed up on either side of my vehicle. Popo’s partner began to speak.

“You ran a red light. I was gonna write you up but thank your friend here for saving your ass tonight.”

I wasnt even aware I ran a red light at all, but I took his word for it. Anyway, Popo had done a lot more than simply SAVE my ass… But I glanced in Popo’s direction and genuinely thanked him. His partner left once more. Popo lingered behind and told me discreetly that he will hit me up very soon. I let him know that I looked forward to it before winking at him. Popo giggled a little before walking away and before I drove away into the rising Sun.

Anthology II

You are not a kid anymore. You have grown into an amazing young man. With strength and integrity and a fierce sense of right and wrong. You have a family who will take you back no matter what, and they’re all in your life right now. Any mistake you make, any crazy thing you might do, they will love you unconditionally. That’s how you know what your family is. They love beyond reason.