slipping threads of broken light
it fucking breathes but you know im right
set your jaw towards the pointless fight
i can exceed where you lead and do it all night
bleed your words in unconventional ways flowery razor sharp and blunt hammer like phrases that hide your willing intent to beg for praise
tickle their ego or they wont read what you write
at least the talent isnt wasted

dont get me wrong i love all the amazing people here
praise is due
but if you see it like i do
after awhile .....well....if you understand then you know

most nights i dont do so well
when the lights are out it goes straight to hell
dont remind me i know it so well
what happens after the thought chimes bell tells its sadly short story?

pitching tune in lieu of new news a cracked view two shots and a brew..or six
i feel thought

i watch your feverish syllables and confuse myself with how they crawl through my brain like grounded orgasmic bats while i meander around this den of attention addicted poets
i know that im like you. i like/want attention too
the difference? i cant call myself a poet

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