His racial ambiguity screamed beauty to me
I no longer focused on black or white racial tensions, I just focused on him as a person, him as a being, he who is beauty and he who is surreal.
But it upset me inside the way his modeling success was warranted,
Here we have a man who’s not friends with republicans.
From humble beginnings he’s rooted, and the ideals of being humble are carved in his branches (his tattoos).
He’s not rich, but a regular man he is.
They sexualize his racial ambiguity to sell their products to rich people who probably wouldn’t be friends with him in the real world because he isn’t rich.
How funny and intimidating it must be to model for the upper class when you aren’t upper class yourself.
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In my faded and her drunken state, I sat on the corner of the bed and she laid askewed. Her fingertips stretched out to my hair, and she lost them in the jungle of my curls. I silently wished it wasn’t my friend who ventured off here, but an older man that was just as curious as losing himself in my hair as I was in his eyes; wondering about the mysteries of men and their somewhat nurturing father ways. I hoped a man would make my garden an extension of his estate.
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The leaning Tower of Pisa was attacked by a group of gentle snakes that wrapped themselves around the outside columns (getting head from a curly haired girl while your fingers grab onto the nest of curls)
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