i pay with my skin to sit in this vulture nest.
i pay with my ears to hear these empty dreams
i pay with my time to throw it out on the sidewalk.
from the top floor of the pharmacy
where i learn how to write
from a writer who never made it.
blind leading the blind?
more like
the undead reviving the unborn.
theres no life here.

i am riddled with flaws
an oxymoron with legs
every word, and every fibre
contradicting
weaving through
every muscle,
every thought,
every emotion.

but through all the fat
a seed of belief
a sprout of confidence
untamed and unleashed.
a tiny tree in my brain
grew thirsty lips
and a big head.
writes a scripture with my name on it
fits a crown for my skull.
i have no choice but to listen
no one else wants to talk.