Yesterday, the cat kept meowling back to another cat who was yowling and strolling the streets near by. She wanted them to live with us because, you know; this is a lovely home. I told her that it’s worthwhile waiting for someone nice who would have the decency to respond back to you.
In an era where family photo albums start a person’s story there aren’t any pictures of me which has started my journey.
How many times my parents tried to acknowledge, on my behalf, that my love is not reciprocated; given time of peaceful circumstances, why would a child’s love for their biological parents would ever be questioned.
I want to play with your mind. So remember when we used to fix things; just like new.
Stranger; “Can’t you use scissors.”
Me; “We use our teeth.”
The thing is, which nobody tells you, is that when you go shopping for giants like myself, anything needs to be a little bit bigger than small.
My parents, the providers, would say to me; “We found you in the trash,” followed by mockery and mimicry in a strong French accent. “Our blood is running through your veins,” and they would stink in vain. “You grew up in my belly,” and they would look at each other bursting in laughter. “You are not my child,” words would be spat in my face, two inches away from my eyes. “You are not my child. I am not your mother. Go see your mother,” words would again be spat in my face, two inches away from my eyes. “You’re mixed up,” were repeated twice in laughter when I would share flashbacks of my birth in my mother’s arms with my father near standing still in the corner. My parents, the providers, would never provide an explanation of which my brain, some time on its own, tried to rewire; “Remember when you said that I am not your child. Why, why did you say that to me for,” and they left me—in silence.
In this world there are people who hate you so much, your guts—so bad, so sickeningly awful—that they actually act in such a way that may make you believe that they like you.
My mother, the food and clothes provider, once said to me; “After I die, I want you to visit my tomb every year and it must be at the day of your birthday. And, you must not cry.”
A picture is worth a thousand words.
To my biological mom and dad; Mourn me not for I have spent a lifetime in doing just so.
Who does not truly hate a Jew; “The Jew.”
Elementary sexology class. This one question that I raised my hand for and NEVER got asked so here it is; “Yes, Amine, what is your question.” Thank you. My question is; “Do animals give birth to humans if they get impregnated by the semen of a man.”
How can I be racist when I live with a rescued black cat with green eyes since many years.
Motherfuckers—drinking and smoking to try to release the pain so you can do art and wine about it.
There are some people who fix their problems and some others who drink them, and the ones who drink them make fun of the others who fix them.
When you close something and you hear yourself say; “What a bitch,” because there is no nice way to say we’re closed.
I am not working for you people; I am working for me, and to help the people—get that shit right.
Look at this finger and come here, smell it it’s clean, now let me tell you a secret; “In every neighborhood in the whole world we all know who the hoes are—and I am not one of them.”
Girl those fake eyes, boobs, nails, hair and lashes need to be left home and under your bed; in case anyone wants to fuck plastic—ok.
Do I look like I want to.
“Yesterday, I’ve bonded with the cat a little more,” I am only quoting myself because I want to make you jealous; so, are you jealous now.
Yes we’ve all been there, yes we’ve all done it, and yes we’ve all needed to, at some point, but now count me out because the truth is coming out; google search that shit.
When you grow old, and it doesn’t need its look anymore; so sorry babe you killed it.
When the name droppers use their profession as a mean to prey on the younger crowd—we know who you are.