The “me”


Mathew, my past friend 

Wow, what a surprise mathew was truly beautiful outside and in

Sweet as the nectar ruminating off his pink skin

He was one of the first difference i dated

Akin to a flower he smiled like one blowing in the wind

So sweet, he taught me how to kiss

So, without knowing how, i kissed his soft lips

he laughed and said oh is that how you think it is?

No, he say’s, close your eyes when you kiss someone you miss

….when you’re not around them for a bit

Crazy that i’ve been trying to reconnect with him

You shaped the kai i am today

and you are a past experience

just like everyone/thing else in that time period

You were so fucking beautiful yo

Please rest with my father and tell him i said hi, let him know i’m doing fucking fine.

Thanks for teaching me matt, i love you.



Once upon a time I sung a song about dreads

Later down the line I combed the rough ends

Now i’m in a time feeling free, with no regrets

I scream rage by cutting away my past friends

My 10 year trend, still remeber the day they began

My locs was with me, coping my late fathers death

Hid behind my knots, trying to cover my aniexty

As you can see dread locks is not the end of me…. and i may get them again

But until then…. watch me shred 🏄🏾‍♀️🌊

Late Introduction

Hi, i’m Pots. My mind has many thoughts that grow and die, some of which i’ll be posting here often. I’m 24 years old and still flying, higher! The waves that I coast in life are made exactly for me, because i live life true. I believe i’m akin to a butterfly in its stages of transformation, from a larvae to this completely different persona/physical body, and instead of it taking me 20 days to do so, it’s taking me more than 20 YEARS. But don’t fret, this is the normal Human Metamorphosis; GROWTH. Growth, development, maturation, WHATEVER you want to call it, looks like many things and moves in various ways/direction. It’s fucking scary, to have to swallow yourself, feeling the enzymes break you down, then to have to build your self back up again. It’s fucking hurts, when you fall on your face, then having to get back up to fight, yet again. It’s just like our friend that sips sweet nectar, the Butterfly. Now, for the 100th time, like a baby, you’re kicking and ready for another gruesome cycle.

(My writings are really weird, and i’m open to any critiques you may have.)

lost boys 

You don’t have to be lost, circling the universe. 

You could be anything, that your mind exerts. 

I realized a power, that we can all attain. 

But Remeber, another mans world, just may be your pain. 

So don’t be confused of the ether that’s within’ ya. 

Gratitude Periodical 001: Hugs

Yesterday i hung out with friends, Ryan and Shayla. They wanted to have an impromptu hang session, and i was totally up for it. When they arrived, they were greeted with a warm hug. To me, Hugs feel like vanilla ice scream in the summer, just something familiar. Something that’s supposed to be given, and received. Like, a warm wash cloth soothing a pain in your Knee. At closing, the conclusion to our informational talks about;  life, space, waves, whites, and the human brain, we hugged again. This time, I felt a spark. The spark felt like silk penetrating the inside and outside of my skin.

Thanks friends, for not only sharing your mind, but a piece of your body heat, an imprint indeed. I am grateful for hugs.

Course Roots 

WORD OF THE DAY// [roots]

Trinidad & Tabago runs deep down in the nappy roots of my hair. The texture is as course as the sun that lights the island. My Mom and Dad’s soul is a tropical thunderstorm, passing through the Equator, up through my veins that I inherit later. The accent of broken English sits at the tip of my toungue, “Hope ya hav ah good dey tomorrowpleasegawd” *in my trini accent. The food is distinct. The taste of Bake and salt fish fill me up. Peppery Souse, made with Pig Feet, marinates in water, cucumbers, peppers, salt and other seasonings for a short period of time, eating this usually while liming (hanging out). My roots; lime, listen to reggae everyday, but especially on weekends, go to Carnival when it’s that time of year, cook big dinners on a sunday, and sometimes, they take a boat ride to tobabgo. Sugar cane grows naturally there, along with other fruit trees. Stories of them going to the mountain entertains me. Carribean love washes through my flesh, and oh how it feels so fresh.

Daily Prompt Post: Roots