“It’s just me and my mangled limbs your touch soothing but unconvincing singsong whispers of lives unlived.”

She greets death with a curtsy.

You can hit me and push me but you can’t quite beat me.

I lay awake thinking about how none of it had to happen for me to get to this point; and how I’m glad I got there, anyway.

And if you only opened the window you’d see the morning light seep through.

Hearts retch on homestretch where will we go?

I don’t believe in love at first sight; only now I realize that you did.

As I feel your heart shatter like sand through my helpless fingers I envision ripples through the tar of your blood.

I live in my imagination, so sometimes movies help me get lost. I feel like I’m in it.

We live by the paradigms we know.

It is too difficult to think nobly when one thinks only of earning a living.

Wickedness also resides in the gaze that perceives itself as innocent and surrounded by wickedness.

I have to live my life. I have a family and I just think it’s absurd to let other people influence the way you live.

There’s something different about growing up black and Muslim, especially in New Jersey. It’s like when I left the mosque and I left my dad, I felt unprotected, but I also felt a weird sense of pride, like I was involved in this other way of living that was cool to me.

I definitely wanna open up some assisted-living facilities around my city.

[Y]ou may live in the world as it is, but you can still work to create the world as it should be.