realness, its funny how when asked about yourself, you write through your words.
fearless, fantastic, real:

"my words don't do ballet. they aren't classicly trained to
mimic swans."
---my words do origami, straight sheets become crumpled crumbs for the rubbish hee hee, just made me think.

"my words are more like women who close their eyes at clubs
and just move. without caring what they look like. or if
they sweat. or if they fall off beat for a second."

this seems to talk more about self, even as extension of self its really cool

"but moreso..

my words are like cuban women on street corners with runny
mascra..the women who catch a faint sound of drums, from far
away and start to move their tired hips.

cause cuban women are poetry. and runny mascra tells a
story. and tired hips is not spoon feeding you her
circumstances. and her dance is more outta hope than talent.

thats what i do.

pretty ain't got shit on me."

wonderful, on-point with your images because your words are dancing right before me, not with some "i'm pretty, look at me" vibe, more like a naturally infectious rythm where you have to feel it.

bless