BS, BS everywhere no authenticity to be found,
We all put up facades that ultimately **** us around.
Why do we kid ourselves,
Hiding our true selves,
Because the reality is too painful? so we bury our heads in the sand,
Rather than investing in self-care.

If I'm an emotional train wreck,
would you be a first responder?

If I die and lay in rest,
would you love me any longer?

I question myself constantly
wondering what I could become.
Should I be more than this,
or finally will I say that I'm done.

I want to quit
I want to stop

But I can't

I have a debt to pay
and a price that will not drop

So I'll keep at it
Until someone want me shot, dead
someone other than me.
I seem to be the only who can see beyond the ******* and lies that I tell
to myself
Every day

You can do it.
Just keep going.
You got this

So like I said,

I'm an emotional train wreck,
but are you my first responder?

I know you.
I am you.
Right now you're saying to yourself,
"I want some thingamacrackers
with cricket cheese and birds' milk."
Well, you can't always get
what you want,
but if you try sometimes
you might just get
what you want.
The point is to try,
and to never
stop trying,
cuz this ill we climb,
it isn't a joke.
Life's not a ******* game you win or lose.
It's the journey of a zillion miles
that goes all the way through the heart of the Sun.

Halibut!

I really don’t,
Not an ounce,
Not anymore,
Not evermore,
I don’t care.

I don’t care that I’m short,
I don’t care that I’m stout,
I don’t care that I’m poor,
I don’t care much about.

What’s to care for?
Who’s to care for?
We’re carless little bees,
Buzzing away at the lost honey,
When someone is spraying our hive.

Ask me if I give a ****,
Ask me if it is true,
You’ll come to learn and realize,
That even this poem doesn’t rhyme,
And I don’t care.

What does Eunice bring
on these blustered, raging winds?

Busted fences put up in haste,
a forlorn balloon cut loose,
with a smiley face harking back to those
asymmetric aceeeed days
when polarity was frowned upon:
what’s your name where you from what you done?

A man cut from rich serge
can be employed to gaslight
blackened eyes to white,
but the **** in Kent’s hedges
don’t lie

my structure comes in the form of
coffee,
poetry
& *******

i drink coffee to stay awake
long enough to write words
to ******* through life
so that i can explain to people

how my structure comes in the form of
coffee,
poetry,
& *******

Wilted jasmines look like popcorns
… that wasn’t very poetic, right?
I was just watching the bushes sway outside my window.
There is no wind today
Just the hot air breathing
I have turned on the A.C. and the fan grumbles quietly

I feel as if my heart is in my stomach
Huh.
**** it,
I really am forcing it out today..
Whatever
I rested my palm on my stomach
As Faizan’s strange playlist chattered nonsense
Outside the blanket shroud I had built
Around myself
And I could feel the beat
The rhythm
Like a drum or a gong
I don’t know why it matters to me
Maybe because I feet as if nothing else does
Right now
I know that sounds exactly like something
A sentimental teenager would say

I don’t know
I want to talk to myself
A heart-to-heart
I want to ask that *****
What is going on
What is wrong
What the **** is wrong, girly!?
I want to hear her ramble on about stuff
Be bored of her talk, but feel kind of happy
That I’m the one she’s confiding in
I wanna give her a hug
To show I don’t have words good enough for comfort
Which I probably do
But am too lazy to fish them out my gooey head
(Besides
I think the poor **** needs a hug)

I wanna zone out and nod along to her words
Just so she can let it out for once
But that *****’s a *****
She acts tough and all smart
But she’s a sappy preteen girl inside
I say,
“Yo, Ayesha, you can cry, you know—”
And she goes,
“Yeah, I know.”
A flip of that inexistent hair
That she long ago butchered
And, bam, she gone.
She tells me
"Yo, Ayesha, you can cry too, you know?"
"I know" I tell her.
I don’t know what to do
So I lie around
Feeling this stupid ***** dance in my stomach
In my wrists
In my temples
I run my fingers down my neck,
Feeling for the echoes of the gong
That keeps talking, talking, talking
Untiring
As if calling me to my people
gathering us together for a battle
that is yet to be fought
yet to be fought—
yet to be ******* fought

And, hey, my
Money plant doesn’t even look rich
That *****—
(Hey, I got a rhyme!)

"MIXED FEELING."

The saints
are always
crook: why.?
They have
none tolerance for *******. Yes
believe me
they don't,
even Christ
Jesus didn't. Nonetheless
though He
quoted "When your
right cheek
is slapped turn
the left side."
that's no *******, it's
what make
a Saint. But
He hesitated
not to chase the Merchandise
out the
Lord's temple.
******* are: like, sometimes where positivity is
anticipated finding negativity there
right is
the biggest
******* in the
whole wide
crazy world.
Full of
crazy thangz, crazy people living crazy lifestyle. Wide
life, out
the jungle,
homicides, massacre Wonder why we breathing, when
we living to
die. Or I'm
high? (Sigh)
when will the
world halt being ridiculously
crazy. Said
they he's
zany. Plagued
the sages
mad. However
sages are the
last hopes
to heal
the world.
Corona-virus
army, enemy
agent of segregation. What right have
you to black
me, who am
I to white
a brother. ?
When we
looked just
the same, being  humanbeing.
How to become
human, Auth-positive thinking faculty, creativity,
optimism build only, nothang but
possibility. Innovation, inspiration,
motivation.
Here rode
time on the
road to glory
is there any future anywhere.? if
there ever is
a time for
everythang
le' me use
mine now. I
was told
the future
is now, I
wanna live
it unfolding
my pages
stepping the
stair cases,
roller coaster,
fortune searching
I
ride slow,
nonetheless
I gets heading
I should rush
not, yet
on steadily.
#C9_fm