Writes..."Our Kiss"

"we kiss as soon as i open the door and she blushes, embarrassed that there are people watching our very public display of affection. she begins to shuffle; her mind telling her to pull away from me but she can't; her heart won't let her. we continue making out in the doorway because seh already knows what i would say about her reluctance to do so; something about us having not seen each other in a long time, blah blah (the feel of my lips on hers); or her having come such a long way just to see me, more blah blah (slipped her some tongue); the most important thing being that i love her and really don't give a shit about who sees me slobbing her down. so so doesn't break from our kiss. she loves me and she loves how i used to slob her down; i mean how i slob her down. yeah, that's what i meant.

we stand the kissing for about three minutes before she literally has to pull herself away from me; our lips releasing with an audible pop. she turns her head towards my mother and they acknowledge one another; first with a wave and then a pretty standard exchange of pleasantries before she offers an modest apology for our behavior at the door. my mother accepts it, saying she understands, that she can only imagine how this must be for us; to finally be re-united after all these years; knowing that we still have feelings for each other. but i know my mother, so it isn't a stretch for me to imagine her shaking her head in disapproval as we were having our moment. not unhappy for us, just disapproving of our methods; she wasn't one for participating in that kind of overt expression of passion; or one for having to watch one. she says she understands and i think she really wants to, but i don't think she really comprehends this connection between us. all she remembers is that we were together and then we weren't; all we remember is everything else. i can't make her understand that we're bonded. so i offer no apology. like i said before, i don't really give a shit about who sees me slobbing her down; slobbing her up; or slobbing her sideways."

Writes..."Nicole Simpson Can't Rap...And Neither Can I...IX"

"roses are red, a deep crimson hue
fuck valentine's day and fuck you too
fuck dr. seuss, fuck hearing a who
fuck r. kelly, let me piss on you
golden showers of excellence boo
i make it rain pee; that's what i do

nattie does too, remember that shit
know we chopping wood like timber bitch
i mean spitting fire like ember bitch
our words: currency; we're über rich
that's german bitch; deutschland shit
thinking at a higher level like nietzsche bitch

taking time for smarter rhymes; that is true
falling behind greater minds; dumbass you

this is a massacre of the grandest kind
like chicago '29, on valentine's

these words are blood-letting shit, gut-spilling shit
pants-wetting shit, we killing it; betting that you feeling this
to understand the sick shit i spit
bubonic plague from my words; i said it's sick
"black death" and shit; nothing to fuck with
merked by pen; poisoned tip; here it drips"

again, all apologies to "real" rappers, i'm still just fucking around.

Writes..."My Valen-spine"

"i can't move...literally. i bent over to spit while brushing my teeth and coughed, causing my body to jerk violently and i hurt myself...bad. i mean real bad, like "it took me 30 minutes of standing, reaching and crying to put my underwear on" bad. and that's no exaggeration; in fact it probably took longer. i think i spent the first 20 minutes just thankful i could still had feeling in my legs. and now i'm stuck on the couch, unable to move, and in tremendous pain.

i need a valentine. i need a woman. i need love; preferably from someone with some pain medication and willing to rub my back; because honestly, i don't think i'll be moving off this couch anytime soon."

Writes..."What Can I Do For You?"

"we met towards the end of march in 2007, i want to say the 23th but it could have been the 26th, i'd have to check my myspace account be sure. our first conversation; spaced out between days because we were communicating through messages and i didn't have internet access at home. i had to talk to her when i could and that was only when i was at the library and we were both online. but even when we weren't, it was exciting to sit down and see she had written me the day before and to know that she was waiting for a response from me. we did that for a couple weeks, even after she had given me her number and asked me to call her. there's something about corresponding like we did through writing that i find compelling; it had a kind of "passing around 'do you like me, check this box' notes in junior high school" feel to it. wondering if she liked what i had written or what she was going to say next. it wasn't something i normally did but i have been blessed because i stepped "the hell outside the box".

sometime during that first conversation she had mentioned that she wasn't the "average" woman, so i asked her to describe what she thought the "average" woman was. when she told me i discovered her to be a person who thought a lot like i did; definitely someone worth getting to know better. i liked the things she had to say about herself; that she wasn't materialistic; or worried about her image; that she was doing for herself. i'll never forget when she said, "i always ask the question to the other sex.."what can you do for me that i can't do for myself?" and if your answer starts with a "i can't buy", or "sex" your eliminated by default...lol!" and i remember laughing, thinking: "i can't buy but that isn't some shit i'd just volunteer to someone, that's some shit they would have to discover. and sex? again, not something i'd just put out there, even if it had been on my mind". but at the time i wasn't even thinking about sex. i was all about establishing a relationship with a woman; it hadn't been rooted in my mindset so it wasn't something i worried about.

so no, i didn't answer her question with "i can't buy" or "sex"; if fact i don't think i answered her question at all. actually, i don't remember her asking me so i never really thought about it back then. what could i do for her that she couldn't do for herself?

four years later, i guess i'd say the same thing now that i would have said then, you know, if she had actually asked me. i'd tell her that knowing that she cares more about others than herself; that she's not materialistic or worried about her image; and that she's doing for herself; makes her sound like a woman worthy of a man that loves her with everything that he is. "what can i do for her that she can't do for herself?" i can love her the way she deserves to be loved."