I used to be a writer

Piano fingers, are lobster claws. A lazy cell evolves. in reverse. Paintbrushes collecting dust slump in tin cups brown strips of rust Camera lenses giving me the eye wondering why I won’t pick up the pen and paper. or at least try. what is a feeling. internal hallucination of a sensation None of it is…

I’m Sick

in the head in the body in the clothes. I’m sick. of the ice of the heat of the news. I’m sick. with anger with love with a cold. I’m sick. of wifi of talking of digging. I’m sick. D evastated N auseated A mputated from my cell phone hand and abusing it. Losing me…

Classy

She’s a pervert,real wet and sickkeeps it classy;but hell with the shadeBitch puts the ass in sassy. Leather hugs her titsRed stains the lips,Chains ice her wristsGlock grips the hips All-dark aestheticblack knee-high bootswhip on both thighsstuntin’ looks. Ready for the fixshe’s looking to playall the games in the bookonly, done her way. She’ll give…

Bitch, I’m a Poet

7.22.18 22:05 Bitch, I’m a poet. Writing through your hood Spraying truth on walls. I aint playin’ games; I make them. Pull up on you with some wisdom Planting logic in your head. Ain’t gotta tell me twice Roll the dice, check my ice, Summer sweets, I’m lookin’ real nice. Poshmark on my mouth. Cold…