I know the songs of heartbreak. I know songs of jubilance, songs of grief. I know songs about fucking and songs about smoking weed. I can always match my mood…

But not this time.

What does it sound like to finish a story? Close a book? Is that why no one stays past the first song of the ending credits? Because that’s the worst part of the soundtrack?

What is the song of moving on with your life? And not the fake moving on where really you hold out hope for whatever it is you can’t let go… Where is the song about letting go and being okay with it? Not a trace of sadness… Just peace… 

So, I was watching Love & Hip-Hop: Atlanta (I know, I know) earlier and this chick on the show, K. Michelle or whoever, pounced on this man she was on a date with. In typical reality show fashion, it panned away and the next time we saw her she was discussing her man issues with a friend and saying that she loses interest quickly.

The fake ass intellectuals and relationship experts on the cesspool that is Twitter all had to weigh in on the real reason she’s single… You guessed it, she’s a ho! Let’s look at the very little information that was given on K. Michelle that decided she’s a ho:

• She tongue-kissed a man on a first date.
• She straddled that man while kissing him.
• She says she loses interest quickly.

Based off of this information, the twitter scholars believed that she fucked him the first night and then he ignored her calls.

Okay, and? Even if that were true, does that make her a ho? What even is a ho?

I’m a ho too, then. Fuck it. I don’t play pussy games. If I feel like fucking and there’s available and desirable dick I’m probably going to fuck. If a dude views me negatively because we smashed on the first night then he really wasn’t the one for me. All that patriarchy and madonna-whore complex bullshit means there was no possible way we were ever going to work out - even as homies.

Anyway, My name is Jasmine. I’m 25. I like to fuck… A lot. Sometimes, I fuck on the first date. Other times, I fuck without a date - as in I exclusively meet up with a male for the purpose of fornication. I don’t have a boyfriend and I’m not all that interested in having one. You’d have to be spectacular; my self-esteem is too high to tolerate nonsense. I lose interest quick as shit because most men I meet aren’t all that interesting. At times, I keep men in rotation. Yes, men that I am fucking. I have been known to stop talking to a man I’ve been smanging just because he has feelings for me and his feelings are something I am not at all invested in. No, I am not acting out. No, I do not hate men. I’m just really okay with being by myself and super comfortable with my sexuality. Oh, yeah, and I like to fuck. You don’t like that? You will be okay. If all of this makes me a ho, cool shit. But like nobody could come between Brooke and her Calvin’s, nobody is coming in between me and my nut (no puns intended).
 

He is as green
as the lushest ferns
in the canopy of the Amazon.

I am the city-
with plenty to offer
but I can be intimidating
and often gritty.

Though I know fresh foliage
could compliment these dirty sidewalks
I wonder who will nurture these trees?
My propensity for neglect makes
me a poor choice for gardener.

I don’t want to drain him.
Turn that lovely moss
into a putrid shade of bile

I want to be an environmentalist
but I’m a known industrialist.

But what if he is an evergreen
who can survive this environment
with little assistance from me?

Perhaps, he can find earth for his roots
in the cracks of the sidewalks.

Maybe, he belongs in the city.

Stone Faced.

If
I
don’t keep
tight control
of my emotions,
they blow up all over my face.

to be a an atheist, black, female? Cause this shit is not allowed here in the good ole red, white, and blue.