Every now and thena poem catches my fingertips
begging for expression
reflect wisdom of the lesson
reality has taken the time to teach
it preach
-es
to my pen in a scribbled wind of ink
this shyt stinks
that’s the reality and truth
so uncouth
but the basis to the madness
playing on the edges of imagination and concrete
a friction made heat
determined on release
if something
someone
doesn’t dash it out
with a chemical reaction of submission
its hard to listen
to
the constant bombardment can leave one confused
on which section
is looking for digestion
and vowel movement
or maybe it’s a verb?
the words, that are seeking salvation
an accreditation of thought
don’t want to get to the end
and realize time spent
leaves you less educated than when
you first decided to begin
whoa!
we’ve circled back again…
what the fck are you saying?
why is it raining
conjugations of the same scene
same action
same plot twist
I must be remiss
I didn’t think it would end like this
but it has.
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by 
