Letter to my Insecurity

I never meant to lead you on, that was not my intention. But I am at fault, I'm guilty of not telling you what I was thinking, or my decisions, or what I was feeling at the time. I was never scared of you hurting me, I trust you more than I trust myself sometimes. And I took what you have to offer for granted. But I need you to understand where I'm coming from. I kept it honest with you, even though it was a late ass honesty. But I respect you enough to not even get into something really serious when I don't feel like I can be 100% faithful. And I know you said your ex boyfriend cheated on you, and I don't wanna be anything like him. Even though I know kissing that girl in front of you was exactly what I did. We never needed official titles. I just should of done more to let you know what was up. And I never meant to make you feel insecure or guilty about anything. You have every reason to be pissed off at me and leave. I can't blame you. But through all we've been, I at least hope we can stay friends. That we can be civil towards one another and you don't wish to see me burn in hell. In a perfect world, we would be the best couple ever. I just don't feel like I can give you that RIGHT NOW. I took your love for granted and I deserve the consequences of you walking out of my life.

Biology and Purpose of a HOE

Time to answer the age old question of "WHO INVENTED HOES???" and "WHAT'S THE PURPOSE OF HOES"??? I know you've been dying for someone to answer this question...and it's so complex yet simple at the same time. You can't figure it out because you're frustrated with these yamps and rats...but understand everything on this planet has a purpose. And these swamp ducks are not excluded from it. These hoes don't wake up and say "I'm gone go out, sell my pussy, and make lives difficult for the good girls out there". Oh no you silly mortals....HOEISHNESS (a form of hoe activity) is developed over an amount of time, usually triggered by ain't shit niggas or catastrophic events in her past. First let me start off with the Biology of these so called sack chasers...

BIOLOGY OF THE HOE (HEAUX)
You have to understand these hoes are living organisms. Yes..she may sleep on a pallet on the living room floor and smell like love spell and a dollar store...but she's a person. Now there are different levels of hoes.
- Celebrity Hoe (only fucks with big names to get money/kid/ or a spot on BB wives)
- College Hoe (the hoe you see everyday on campus and know she sucks dick for books)
- Local Hoe (the low bearing fruit hoe who wants to become a celebrity hoe one day)
- Hoodrat Hoe (the usual hoes who date trap niggas and take pictures with lime green wigs and ghetto tattoos)
Just to name of few. You know them...you prolly one yourself. But you won't admit it. That puts you in the UNHONEST HOE category. But I digress. These hoes serve a purpose in your local community. Hoes are like taxes...we all hate them bitches but forced to deal with them. Uncle Sam WANTS THESE HOES IN AMERICA.

Hoes become hoes by several reasons. Some which aren't explainable. Personally I feel these hoes become ratchet, because they want attention. They are a product of their environment. They need money to feed a kid(s) who's daddy is unknown and been missing since Maury starting doing paternity test. Or my favorite....its simple Genetics. Her grandma was a hoe, pussy popping and do-wopping to a Temptations single. And her mother was a hoe, bumping and humping for the latest Malcolm X mixtape. So understand that some of these hoes aren't in control of their low life situation. And dudes can be hoes too, but I don't know them as well as I know female hoes. Your job as the consumer of these hoe  activities, is to make sure these hoes know they role and stay in they lane. You're not my girlfriend. You're not my main. You're not my friend. You...my flesh tool...are here to fuck me, clear my mind, maybe have a few drinks and go back to your nappy head child. "Well Brian if she was ratchet, why you fucking her"? Because this form of sex should mean absolutely nothing but busting a nut. Sex is suppose to be mechanical exercise without feelings and LOVE towards the person anyway. Moving on...


PURPOSE OF THE HOE
Like I stated before...these hoes are in our community. One might ask "what that little funky hot cheetoh eating bitch doing around me and my man?" Good question! Everybody has a garden of LOVE. Some more well groomed than others. Once in a while our gardens grow weeds (now the weed heads are interested). You need to clear these weeds. The proper tool is indeed and you guessed it "A HOE". Based off of who you are and your social and financial stature, you have to pick the best hoe for the job. And I guarantee you won't find these HOES at Lowe's, Home Depot etc. NO! You will find these at the club, Wal-Mart, church, the EBT line, on campus, or right under your nose. These hoes clear your garden of weeds. By weeds I mean the bullshit you deal with from girlfriends, life, stress, and struggles. Hoes are easy...real women are far more complex and difficult. Once you are stress-free, relaxed, and sane..you have a moment to yourself to realize what matter most to you in life. The weeds are gone and so should that tool of a hoe. You can now plant a beautiful bed of roses, tulips, and sunflowers. The purpose of these cum dumpsters is to not harm your current relationship...but free your mind AND penis of confusion and backed up semen. Hoes aspire to be roses. Don't fill their heads with empty promises. Hoe check that hoe!!! She used to it. But at the end of the day, they're just a tool used to make life easier. Everyone know after sex you think so much clearer and put more thought into your actions. Your garden is your happy place. Like Jody's mom in Baby Boy. You don't wanna sit around, weeds/hoes/and garden snakes. You wanna be surrounded by roses. Enjoy the fruits of your labor.

I hope this clears up unanswered questions. Until next time my friends....(comment and/or tweet me)

The Storm

It rained this morning. Quiet raindrops symbolize the tears I can't cry as I concocted this storm particularly right. Lighting strikes.                FLASH! CRACK! Took my heart by surprise. I was just chillin', now my mind pacing, heart racing raindrops in my eyes. DRIP DROP. Dear Storm is picking up, comfortably cozy in my bed, drowning, seems wet enough. Thunder rolling,  shivers and shakes the scenes from my memories that this shit storm is howling at me "WAKE UP!!! I'm right here outside your window LOVE, come peek, I'm wet enough to transform that king into soggy sheets." Temptation. This all too proverbial. Like a mental depiction. You bring out Bravery to conquer my fear and look out the window. Slowly arising creeping cautiously cuz I can't confess how cowardly I can be. But you can B. You CAN. Standing long, confident, strong I race to the window to play in your wetness LOVE....but you're gone....go figure...should of known. All that remains is the presence of quiet splashes of what you used to be. Quiet raindrops. It rained this morning...