I was told not to play with fire but I collect zipos looking for the right pair to recreate the brown fire that was her stare . I felt like a Phoenix traped inside a moths body . The fire in her eyes were beautiful silhouettes of magma .Glaciers sat idle as fuel for the mirages to mislead any man that would try to pierce through the fire ice and illusions that guarded who she really is . So I didn't let her burn me I waited till she saw the fire in my eyes then burnt out her lava with my flame . I didn't chip away at the glaciers . I let the heat from the flame I composed with my words provoke a change in session . I never got lost in her illusions but she did . Fun house mirrors surrounds the most beautiful women I haven't even had the pleasure to meet .I freed her in hopes that both minds would interwine .that she would see me for me and I'd look at her not only as the image of beauty but truth its bitter sweet to know the women your with isn't the women your in love with but a fraction.

- by : roshaun jones

Photographs

My mom always keeps photos of me and my sister to cherish the times when we could not move unless she held us not eat unless she fed us. Not laugh till she played with us we are her alpah and her alpha there is no omega. I am her sun my sister is her moon our mother is gaia the abscense of one of us would bring the end of her exsistence  her core would rupture and her oceans would flood her lands and our gaia MY gaia  would cave in and be her own apocalypse. As her sun i am also her star when suns  burn out they die and turn to black holes they take everything around them and send them to where only God knows. I don't want that for my gaia or my moon my mothers teachings lead me to be the best I can and will be I made a promise to her that I would keep this mentality I can recall when she took photos of me when I was 3 ft high took photos of me when I was accident prone with 4 scars on each eye. Took photos when I had this habit of sucking my pinky when wraped up snuggled beside her under my blankly. I can still remember all the times she said she loved me each night of everyday this women did her best to make not only me but my sisters happy. She accepted her neces spring and autumn as her own children my sister is summer she has a temper like a volcano but like where volcanos are from she's beautiful and exotic hearing her eruption will scare the shit out of anyone but if you lishen to the calm before the rain of ash and hell fire. YOU will hear one of the most beautiful verbal deaster in the Making. I am winter cold to those who have or haven't done me wrong because I'm colder then winter nights mysterious like the darkest depth of space where light won't touch or heat won't travle quite like a pin drop in the abyss calm like an isolated lake stuck in a no motion time space was more alone then being an only child in a world with no other seasons creatures or people. I use to be cold like Pluto then my mother taught me to be hot now. I'm her sun she showed me how to spit fire when provoked by summer or spring spit fire when people call me stupid spit fire when people come to me with foolishness. Spit it if I get disrespected. Spit it if Im spited at. Spit it so no matter What the scorch of the flame that would come out my mouth would engulfed any flame that comes my god damn way. Spit it so I can be heard. Spit it so my words would engrave an r.r.m.j on our photograph. I just wish I could spit my mind to the man that crashed into my mom and damaged the quality of her photo album. It hurts me when she struggles to remember the strugle I had to learn how to walk straight , ride a bike or tie my shoes or how my favorite show use to be Caillou. Its puts a burden on my back to bear the fact that the air it's self prevents her from walking the presser on her neck from the chipped fragment of her skeleton feels like the invisible boot heel from God the god that I do not believe in the god that makes my mother feel so much pain the god that prevents her from walking when she wants I don't believe in a god but god must have a gia like me but why blame something I don't believe im not blaming god for what happened to my mother I'm blaming the man that drove his 4x4 into my gia's back bumper that penitentionaly fucked up her life because his gia didn't teach him to slow down that day I COULD have lost my mother but my sister and my mom both would have lost me but being the source of light in theyre lives takes a toll on one so I over slept and couldnt go with her if I did you would be hearing this right but without the light in theyre lives where would they go... What would happen to them how would my sister grow she is not a staligtight she docent need to be at the top then go down our mother made us into stlaglagmites started from the bottom now were * raise hand*

And When that day comes I would gladly give this arm so she could keep that photograph

- by: roshaun jones