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The Fake, the Real, and the Bitches.

I went to the gym today with only 30 minutes to spare.

It was fast. It was sporadic.

Schizo. Crazy. Different.

I was everywhere.

Push-ups, Bar-dips, and pull-ups.

I look around.

I see the frat boys, pledges wearing their shirts, and in the corners a few veterans with dark eyes, beards, and tattoo sleeves on their arms.

Death Before Dishonor. Die for Them. Eagle, Globe and Anchors.

My #Dogs.

My #Niggas.

My #WarDogs.

I Trust Them…

#Snipers

#American

#Bruins

I Trust them.

I see the little boys trying to become Men.

Virgins, Catholics, Veterans, Pre-teens,

I see them going into the houses.

#ZBT

#SAE

#Delta

The little boys they go into all the houses, and they try out.

I snicker, shush, lift, smile, and keep silent.

; )

There are beautiful people in the gym.

Men and Women.

Everybody is watching and breathing.

I pump, pump, pump, and do as many push-ups as possible.

I DON’T BREATHE.

I pray my little sister makes the right decisions, but she is on her own.

I love her. 

My Baby Sis –

My Chula Mosa Ma.

I pray for the One, the Messiah, the Real One.

The Lamb.

The Ewe.

The Rae.

Please Lord, I pray for the Well of Life.

I was walking through the gym, and I saw a curvy short blonde woman.

I wanted her.

I let go of my breath, and my temptation dissipated.

The sensation felt good with no feelings attached.

I enjoyed the exhilaration of moving about in the gym. I had some sense of temporary satisfaction, but its flees and goes like the waves of the sea.

No longevity, no foundation.

I need commitment.

Walking up early in the morning and taking cold showers, I have found bring initial shock and pain, but later brings about pleasure in the body.

“Can p#rn-stars love,” I remember asking myself this in the office space.

No more talking, and much more writing.

 

 

 

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