too much screen-time...
i prefer watching the screen
using sun-glasses...

plus?
look up...
sunglasses and the night sky?
what do you see?

DJANGO came before
the BLACK PANTHER...

i can only see the moon...
   stars? what stars?!
i can't see no stars!
not with these sunglasses!
what stars?!

                 now...
you have to be ******* me,
because i'm not ******* you...
and if you're ******* me,
then i must be ******* you...
so who's ******* who's,
and who's me, and who's you?

ever ****** a black girl with
a boney ***...
so you felt your coccyx grind against
your cranium?
    i asked:
ever paid a lady a compliment?
you tell her her *** was
nice and boney...
  ripe for a mini-skirt of
a white **** she enjoyed
to ride like a colt's worth of
a mustang...

you tell the nice lady
what she wants... well...
what i want to hear...
             and i want to hear is...
what i want to hear...
                and i want to hear...
is a dozen dogs barking...
     i want them to be heard...
barking...
and gnawing,
gnashing,
     making mince meat!

i want to hear the fact that,
when wearing sunglasses...
you can see ****
other than the moon,
and no wandering northern star
of venus.. no stars...
    i want to hear the words...

i can't **** of the night in my
azure escapade...
for worth of the moon as
the sun, and the missing
star constellations as
clouds...

              boney ***
coccyx ivory beauties...
******* your ***** region
pain -numbed...
   the sort of pleasure
that reveal your desire for
a similitude of pain...
no fairer compliment
to these ***** *******...
the sort of rarity of making
compliments...
i want to **** your women...

you take your readily available
decree of rewards from
making, due...
            revenge...

sorry...
i''ll have to wait a little...
          i'll have to bait my name,
in which one of your women i'd
want / like to ****...
     plump doesn't bother me...

give me a minute...

                   let the moon dice
decide...
               well **** me...
if we're all going to be or rather become,
the savages we expected to
be upon misnomer exchange
tactics...

            you first...
                                 but i come second...
savage or no savage...
i'm pretty sure the women
can tell the difference...
  mind you...
much harder to find a ******'s piece of
****-able *** than you
might find in
the bony-*** crack of the readily
agreeable...

   proud women...
                          women you almost
want to raise a family with,
and become a lullaby of...
listening to crows,
croaking... subsequently pecking...

death before sleep, the lingering
quest for compromising
a limp, in the fathom-ability
of being accursed with
retaining a problematic
               assortment, and allure,
confined to the expression of,
                  sorrow.