A hypnotizing rhythm

of metal on track

car honks and stop signs.        

My perfectly measured lines,

red light, green light, one, two, three nights in a row...no sleep. 

No peace,

just weathered eyes staring back at me

My

mind

is

fading

in

the

sun.  

We left trails of sand across our wonderland

Filling valleys in the earth

Void of moisture and love

I waded towards the light dancing across the lovely angle of your lips.

The veil of sweet pea blanketing your chest

Or more importantly the beat of your breast

The baritone beat that colored a land of

Epinephrine dreams

Flooded ravines

But it wasn’t all orgasms and butterflies.

Wine spills over sand

As LUSTful eyes connect

Powder rocks drip religiously to the lips

Clawed fingers hollowed neck

curved lips in disgust as a chest beats fear into every step.

Every scent.

But it wasn’t all orgasms and butterflies.

It wasn’t all orgasms and butterflies.

I walk with open hands

To catch winds that flow froth from a broken dam

Painting snowy pages with grainy memories

Tumbling over each other like waves and sand

So I search the seashore for purpose

Every speck of land

Hoping to find I am more than just trails in the sand.

Listen here buddy!

Your bluest eye is often elongated with sarcasm

Hidden mantras, doubting thoughts, witty banter, and feelings of dispassion

When you see these feelings in your self do not fear or abandon

All the fertile hollowness inside you is a peculiar gift, an experience worth having

All the decay and ill-fitting skin... is all the compost needed to grow within

Perhaps that's why roses smell like poo?

Even so, you have to believe you can birth a life anew

Before entering the void ask yourself this question

Will the final scene provide relief?

Can a silently held hand push you to believe?

After all, a connection is what we all need

So remember what seeks me is also what I should seek.

Now just get on with it!

In this nights hour

A serpent speaks to me

conscious of realities

it whispers beyond belief

A puppet with string

theories of will... not save me

Drama exists in every story

What will this drama become of me?

Manic company.

But when I crash

I’m all smiles!

all smiles

: )

Until I end

motionless limbs

sad twisted pile

Glazed whispers like cloth

across a sober pond.

A chorus of mantras buried under the surface.

On moonlight's polish

the tide rises.

Leaving nothing but the past behind...

Hesitant mouse morally mocking the light

to cheerful chipmunk

all snorts

no spite

Your presence was presented

as a present

you kept me present from

my past

Simply plain

you made me laugh

Our birth on warm isles

gave birth to warm milk

warmer smiles

I wish you luck and acceptance…

on your journey

to

the

last

mile

stone take millions to form

butterflies

less so

Despite your falls or wavers

you can always be my savior

The_Grime is snow on a black NYC street.

Dramatics aside!

The_Grime was raised by immigrant parents who traveled from Trinidad to New York for a better life like many others at the time.

During the younger stages of life The_Grime remembered pleasant summers in Trinidad filled with bats, chickens and goats. Streets filled with roti and packed taxi vans; and falls and winters on chilly New York streets with puffy jackets and long bus lines. The_Grime felt bless to call two places home. Two places vastly different in mood and lifestyle.

During the third grade, Grime began to feel different, perhaps oddly lonely. But Grime knew he had a loving family and tough older sister to bat away any ill feelings or inadequacies. As The_Grime matured he frequently borrowed his families video camera to record anything he could, he couldn’t help himself for framing life the way he saw it. Or the way he wanted it to be.

In High-school The_Grime did well in advance and honor classes and decided to take classes at New York Film Academy to further pursue his hobby. His first film was a failure as he never edited before, so Grime decided to run from presentation night and feign sickness to avoid failure. Eventually The_Grime decides to follow his sister to Rutgers University, because he honestly didn’t think he can pursue anything in film anymore and his writing was always good. But mostly because he had no idea who he was or what he wanted to become.

During college The_Grime encountered many people of different backgrounds and ethnicities, but the feeling of loss and loneliness heightened as his willingness to pursue his hobbies grew. He began working on small films and tv shows but was never at peace with himself. Often bouncing irrationally from one thing to the next. Eventually Grime found an answer. He found acceptance, serenity, and control in drugs and alcohol and here his life took a major defining turn.

Eventually The_Grime graduated and started a successful career in casting for reality television before working as a tv commercial producer. But the hunger grew inside. All the therapy couldn’t help Grime hold a relationship for any extended period of time. A breakup with the longest of his relationships started Grime on a slow and long spiral that was years coming. The_Grime began heavily self medicating which affected family, his finances and his friends.

Soon The_Grime found himself frequenting the underbelly of His city. Committing theft, fraud and other heinous acts among other spiritually lost souls. The_Grime has no idea how his life became so disjointed. He became selfish in framing life under the lens as he wanted it to be. Dressed, directed and lit up to his discretion, and not accepting the scene as it is.

Currently writing from rehab with a hidden phone. The_Grime is on a mission to change his habits and the life he once lived. To write stories that other souls on a journey of change can relate too and do something helpful with the stories he has gathered.