Fighting with her against my winds,
She says Life is running short
When she and I both know the place
Where both time and space abort
in to a meaningless sense,
the answer to all our questions.
A place where word came first,
where she made sense with me
But carbon became our end.

I feel content, happy at rest,
The pressure of the world feels almost weightless to the point where I actually manage to forget it’s even there. Always wished it was like a backpack so I could just take it off and disown it out of it’s own misery.
Why do I then feel okay knowing I’m nothing but half an angle, blood stained hands, chunks of my back in my nails, accidentally clawed out while I was digging out a wing. Why does it feel so satisfying? Which anger am I still holding on to? It feels too good, too alive to be bad and why do I feel alive? Half alive? Because somehow I know if I touch anything with those stained fingers death would be a pardon. Because I’m held back by my own self that turns the mirror around and shows me how consumed I’ve become. After breathing out the flames to the very end in realization, and content, I sit. I contemplate on how easily I’ve managed to delude myself into believing I had done the world another favor and forgetting I’m just another human going through things.
I then wash my hands, mend my wounds, stop mourning my own pity
Then eventually I remember the backpack comes easily off when harmony is achieved.

I was done proving things
to a world that already knows me,
to eyes that gossip my realness to reality.
But I didn't know it yet.

To my brokenness playing tunes,
when my breakfast was warm.
To my search for light,
When I had made my bed.
To my lyric of mortal rage,
When my phone was full of pictures of
Lavender.

To the Me you never see.

At times of clarity, I ask myself why I constantly validate my reality. It feels as if I’m not sure of my own existence and further down that road, second questioning my every move. When did I become so…unattached?
Not sure if that’s the right word..

Does it matter if I go down spiral with elegance?
I'm barely holding on to my own hand from ever stepping off the edge, from hurting good again. I blame it on a writers block when I can feel gravity increment my step into a crawl, but I tell myself that it isn't time, as if I know when.

- mystery ride

Tired Sneakers, Hoodie on! 2 rounds.
I'll meet you at the end.👟

I saw you adding weight to your shackles to stay calmer than the waves below. A heart morphed its way to hands I can’t call mine, to pull you into an ocean so you may stand on it and heal the bruises on your beautiful ankles. Who knew a man’s heart, floating within grey clouds, could find gravity to kneel before you?

The warmth of blue kept me full but I knew I lost my light. Always. I looked within with torches that couldn't illuminate my way but enough to trust the next step. Surprised by how far that led me forward, I still felt the urge to jump, run and fall. Alas, anchored with the knot of my own flesh that can't balance itself, it trips with the wrong thought. How many you ask?
As all roads end with hallways that begin with another door, the ruler of fear cries. I learned enough not to trust light but the colors within.

Here you are, the chords of true to my symphony.

Scents and Monsters

Rings and labels won't fill holes and yet here I am confessing my sins.
When bandages are stripped off and shirts are left with scents, the battle begins once more, as if paradise was only open for visitations.

A runner meets a jogger,
Had a single neuron been
the waves of a reminder,
My brain would've been a whimsical ensemble...
of her.

Eyo, wanted to share parts of my journey during the making of my upcoming Electronic Album, "MOONSHOT" looks like. Will share more soon. 💜
#moonshot #album #edm

A date is set for my upcoming release! So thankful, soo excited. RSVP Now and secure a spot as we only have limited spots! Can't wait to see you there! 💜
Date : Friday, June 30
Location : Alliance Ethio-Francaise (Piassa)
Doors open at 6:30 PM
FREE ENTRANCE 🌙
⚠️ +21 Only
🎟️ Limited Seats

Here I am once more. Reaching, No more running. No more blurred lines; tunes that fade away my thoughts. This is me.
Surrounded with mirrors, ones that are clear and acute, I no longer question my deepest questions. I see myself, only to learn that I had, always. I hope there is more because this can’t be the whole point. It shouldn’t. Now that I’m burdened with universal freedom to doors only my imagination can bound, the darkness in the grey fades into a peaceful fog that ties my energy to where I stand, sit, cross my legs and breathe. Somewhere between letting thoughts be thoughts and the fear of not being able to grab the air. “Is where I am the gift, the answer to my prayers or am I once again trapped in my own solitary?” “Neither, I am where I am.” “Where?” “The beginning.” Calmness overcomes voices, Darkness becomes a choice for balance. It is, not very long ago, that I’ve learned that Time… is still.
This is not real, it barely even began, with a story that crescendos as it began. With a story of hope, with a story to love. Everything else before was a prequel to set this story right.

Gave you my number.

Tears and Waves was for you and yet here we are, back at it again already.
I ask my body for forgiveness for all the times it was touched for comfort. So tired, in a happily never after cycle. It's hard to argue when you're always hiding behind "Men will be Men".
A birthday gift for Alice, a mirror wrapped in human wrapper, She shatters it to pieces, cut herself and bleed and wipe her sorrows with the wrapper. Little did she know, the wrapper had been the gift all along.

My number was not for aesthetics.