Columbia
AJGFX
SossHouse
Creative Director and Lead Visual Artist
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Natives
DeTox
Savannah
An Overdue Overdose
Just as 10 p.m. hit its 21st minute, “Don’t call him, girl," was the last sound from the outside world that reached her pierced ears. Five tall glasses of moscato digesting behind the flat board she called a "stomach” had finally allied themselves with 3.5 grams of her favorite combination: Blueberry Kush and White Widow. Faded wasn’t the term that gave her present state justice. With the concoction enhancing her senses, focusing her thoughts, and sending her libido into a frenzy, she quickly realized that she wanted, no, craved more.
___
However, him was the only plug she knew—without a doubt and without needing a dime—would have what she needed. He always had the best supply and made sure he left her with more than extra every time she dialed. But there were always risks. Besides possibly becoming addicted at an alarming rate, the side effects included: jealousy, selfishness, increased sex drive, aggression, sudden flares of stalking, the occasional schedule movement of menstrual cycles, migraines, depression, loss of focus, a fluctuation of bitchiness, an increase in spending for vanity, and a possible desire to settle down. Too bad, though. By the time she thought about what everyone else would say, she had already sent off a message to his phone: “Hey. Are you busy tonight?”.
___
He wouldn’t answer, she just knew it. Not after their last heated conversation. In fact, he’d probably just look at it and delete it. Hell, she would. He was always busy anyway. More than likely with some other bitch, progressing off his god given talent, or working. “Stupid” flashed across her forehead; she knew she should have listened. Grabbing another infused blunt, she attempted to flick her dying lighter, only for a different light to spill upward from her lap: “For you, I’ve got all the time in the world.”….What a woman wants, a woman gets.
___
- Zer0, The Unknown
Sanctified
Somewhere with the Palmettos
If Eye Could Speak
Oh, what is this here?
So clear, yet hidden from me
I search you dumbly
___
- Zer0, The Unknown
B.R.I.S.K
Paul Revere
Raindrops that shimmer
on golden waves
raveled into ropes
of pure excellence
is what will sit on my neck.
The same place they would tie nooses to my ancestors
in intimidation of surviving
with a dark kingdom
within their presence.
Watch me flip shit.
On my fingers
will sit an array of economic arrogance,
several pension plans
before reaching the neighboring knuckle,
with cuts that go deeper than
any cesspool inside the souls
of haters.
But, not near the damage
from having your hands
burnt, blistered, carved, smashed and splintered
by forced work in stolen foreign lands.
Watch me flip shit.
On occasion,
a mate of mine
will remind me
that Big Ben
finds himself a mockery of the timeless
yellow 24 karat garden
surrounded by beautiful black stones that sit on my wrist.
And, just to add a sense of symmetry,
I’ll add symphonies to the other.
Classic metal orchestras
illuminating on que
to make heartbeats
add percussion.
Oh yes, face it.
These bracelets aren’t cuffs
that bind me as a lesser
to your ignorant diligence
anymore.
Those dull putrid shackles
have fallen off melanin
and now leave a foul stench
in your lonely, lazy, stupid
and criminal past filled homes.
I am the new era of royalty,
and I hope you cringe
in your casket when you realize that you brought kings,
in shambles,
to a place where they could
only evolve.
The Pharoahs have returned.
___
- Zer0, The Unknown
Comatose
