L$D by A$ap Rocky

His feelings for me reminds me of fog hugging the mountains right before dawn.The lights along the hillsides replicate his eyes.They pierce through the confusionof our past and lies.My presence, he craves it.The movement of my tongue along his body.His hands gripping the arch in my back.Although he’ll never admit,this lust is the reason we embodySomething sacred we can’t quit.Desperation in his gaze;the way he stares at me bare.Ready to devour me into a daze.Will the gleam in his glare vanish as the sun begins to rise?Am I giving too much credit to someone I should despise?The feelings once felt are no longer a reality.Love isn’t something genuine I can give.Yet,there’s comfort is in the familiarity.But, I don’t believe he wants anything moreThan someone to suck his dick.Yet as each passionate kiss is given,I can’t help but wonder what’s beyond the haze we’ve allowed to set in.the foreseeable future isn’t as bright as the day before usThen again, neither was our yesterday.This desire we both seek within one anotherCauses me to wonder:Are we finally on each other’s teamOr are we both just in a Love Sex Dream?

Yearning in Reverse

The thought of youdoesn’t haunt my mind oftenBut occasionally I do get scared.The armor I welded with time and self loveSometimes is stripped away,leaving me bare.-There’s an emptiness underneath itA void I thought I filled.-In this moment my heart fills heavy,Longing for your presence thoughI know it won’t persist without a levy.-We had tried many times to exist together before;Attempted to act as friendsAnd nothing more. But all it led to waspatterns of lustful behavior.-Most times I find myself believingThat the people of our yesterdayAre far from who we are now.Then a memory reveals itselfand the emotions cave into my soulAs if there’s a sinkhole at the pit of my core.-Faster than a blink of an eye,I’m naive again-Yearning for your care.Ironic how when you finally said“I love you”I chose to not be there.

What is Love By Haddaway

June 14, 2026 I don’t know what Love is. I suppose I could spend my time reading scholar articles on what the scientific researchers have deemed it. But, in reality, I don’t think that would be beneficial for me to learn how to love. If I were to study up on the evolutionary reasoning behind love or the neurology of bonding with someone, I would be doing a disservice to myself and to those I am learning to love. Contrary to many beliefs, I am beginning to piece together that the love we see in media and throughout history has been a horrible and influential attempt to enforce the patriarchy. The scientific approach to answering Haddaway’s question of “What is Love?” points to a very specific type of love. One that is heteronormative in nature that begins with lust and ends with procreation. When I was in college, I took a Sex and Love philosophy course. In my textbook’s introduction, the collaborators admitted that most of the collection was the opinions of men. The main reason for this is that throughout history, the opinions of women were deemed unworthy of note.I can talk forever about how much misogyny and the patriarchy have brainwashed our society, and perhaps I will indulge in sharing those thoughts at a later time. But for the time being, I want to spend it conveying what I have learned from a philosopher by the name of Simone de Beauvoir.Beauvoir’s thoughts on love fascinated me, mainly because her views highlight love in a way that isn’t restricted to the romantic aspects of love. She rejected the traditional ideals of love that gave power to the patriarchy: possession, inequality, submission, and domination. Rather, she believed that authentic love flourished in mutual respect. A love that can be experienced towards anyone regardless of sex and gender.In my 28 years of life, I have witnessed and experienced self-loss as a byproduct of self-giving. I regret to admit that I have indulged in this concept to a maximum. My top artist of the year, for as long as I can remember, has been Taylor Swift, who is no stranger to writing gut-wrenching lyrics about sacrificing yourself at the expense of someone else.It is sort of expected, especially for those in a new relationship, to throw themselves in completely with their partner. Suddenly, all their free time is dedicated to one person. I have also noticed that family tends to enable that expectation as well, for if you don’t show up to a family get-together with your partner, all of a sudden, something is wrong. I can’t tell you how often, over the countless holiday parties, my family has asked me where my partners have been. Almost as if the idea that they have their own families to celebrate with is foreign. It is a tough cycle to break, and I think that is something that scientists make a point of. We have an intense desire as human beings to be whole with another. Perhaps that is the evolutionary hardwiring we must endure as human beings. But at the same time, that isn't an excuse to conform to the norm so easily. To believe that, and use it as the reason to not hold agency and distinction, is equivalent to men claiming that SA is the fault of their primal urges. Beauvoir believed that there could be self-giving without self-loss, despite the norm consisting of self-sacrificing behaviors that ultimately contribute to the absorption of their identity into their partners (often women into men).To love authentically, there must be deep care, but also a sense of respect for one another’s independence. Rather than viewing love as finding your soulmate and becoming one (like Aristophanes in Plato’s Symposium declares love to be), it’s healthy to view love with the belief that you are already whole and don’t need another to fill any voids you feel you hold. Without that self-love and self-respect, Beauvoir’s authentic love is out of reach.I think that to have stable and flourishing relations with others, we must mend our own gardens first. We must devote time to sowing seeds and watering our buds. To indulge in playtime with our child selves. This isn’t a one-and-done deal. Tending to ourselves is something we must do often. Self-care is extremely important, and I think that is what is lost in many relations. We spread ourselves thin, and other people’s expectations create limitations and vice versa. That is where the mutual respect comes in. I don’t know what love is, but I am learning how to love, and that behavior is heavily influenced by Beauvoir’s philosophy.

To Be or Not To Be

Sometimes I feel like the world is too tough for my existence. But then, the more I think about it… I realize that it isn’t the world. It’s the people that roam it that hurt me. The guidelines our culture has set forth. The trauma that has collectively destroyed any pure optimism. Humanity is a toxin and as much as we all would like to think the future is bright; the truth is, we are all doomed. It is a very nihilistic perspective, yet it is factual. Humans are not pure. We are too complex to be. It scares me to the pit of my soul, the place where my heart beats. We are never safe. Maybe that’s why some cling onto the comfort of familiar pain while others live with their heads amongst the stars. I am neither of these two. There’s a purgatory between these. I’m stuck in a transition, and it’s a lonely place to be stranded. I’ve heard people need others. That humane connection. It’s paradoxical because that exact connection is what causes so much pain. Perhaps Nietzsche is correct when he claims that the happiest people are those who take the hand that has been dealt and run with it. Those who live dangerously. He believes we must be inspired to achieve the beyond. I truly desire to be strong. In many aspects I know my strength is more advanced that those who follow the main course. The loneliness is what hinders my belief in myself though. This fear of vulnerability, when I know for certain knives will enter my back more often than tenderness. Then again, I suppose that is what Nietzsche means by danger. The knowledge of pain yet the willpower to continue to exist along with it. The ability to stare existence in the eyes and laugh because you’ve overcame the toughest obstacles of living. That achievement is what brings the greatest pleasure.  Perhaps that is the reason to be.

The Flowers of Death

I’m beginning to see thru my rose colored glasses,I wonder if that’s why he keeps buying me more rosesSo my attention isn’t on those hanging dead above my bed.But rather on a bouquet so fullof the colors I’d imagine hope and affection would beRed, pink, whiteSo pure, never comfortable but eccentricAs if it promises a lifetime of love,although he never dare hint at those wordsA bouquet of wishful thinking.I’m slowly realizing the flowers wilt a lot faster than beforeAt first I thought the cause was something I was doing wrong.I tried pouring fresh water in dailyThought perhaps maybe that would encourage a chance of longevityBut as the rose tint grows clearer,my theory now is that the blame is not on mebut the bouquet itselfFor rather than plant a garden full of rooted promises,I’m gifted cut roses.Knowing they will wilt for they’re already deadAnd the plant food he would gift mealong with the bouquet of wishful thinkingseems to be no longer availableSo I lay on my bed, and gaze upat the the once red, pink and white flowersthat have turned into a dark hueAs the bouquet he gifted a couple weeks ago,resting in a vase they never quite fit have followedI shan’t ask for more thoughFor if I do, I become “pushy” for sweet nothingsI wonder if that’s for the best,Because why would I devoted myself to death?

Disorganized Attachment

I destroyed what we were creating,Unconsciously pushed you away.For, I never know what’s a normalNor acceptable space neededIn order to keep at bay.I despise the sensation oflimitation, expectation and nuancesYet when the suffocation and confusionbegins to start,A gravitational force slams me intoEvery nook and cranny of the personI convince myself you are.Despite the anxiety of intimacy,It’s almost impossible for me to part.My insecurities whimpered a panic.The idea of abandonmentDue to any sudden change of hazeate me up insideUntil I encompassed everythingI feared you would be.And although it could have be avoidedIf I nurtured my existence with quiet and a few moments awayI never dare gave you the chance to fleeNor me a moment of peace.I grabbed on and helduntil it was you who couldn’t breathe.It’s ironic to think that what I feared was a manifestation of what would be.For if I could just learn to dismiss the realityI fabricate,Perhaps I wouldn’t have devouredAnd spit outThe dreams of our yesterday.