mind blanking
can't think up of nothing to write so I'm waiting
for this state of loneliness to end, I'm complacent
envious of my peers, I'm shaking
take a drag of the cig, I'm fading
faded
****

solace on repeat, feeling like taking a break
a long one though, cause eternity waits
for no man, my hands in the gutter
mail my mother my ashes in the face of a blunt

no one been praying for me, I haven't been praying for no one
haven't been praying at all, I don't wanna blow it
all off, or my life is a wrap
tired as ****, sleep schedule been off the map

the pen can't even tell that my life white and black.

We was going big, you was holding on to your antics
She fancy how I handle her in the span of a second
At the function,  it's blatant racing for the cannabis
It's no hope for me, I ain't got no dopamine
Got nothing to show for me, Ima need a token, see
the chicken crossed the street in my days
Got to get on my feet in my ways
Got to keep an eye out for these snakes
Serpent, keep on hissing, ima deal with him
like some cards on the wood, I can't chill with them
Stuck in an igloo with the finest of ranks
Finest of days, mama said its really hard to be safe
I ain't concerned with you.

I was frantic.
The sound of her pitter patter was enough to make me shudder.
I hear a second pair of steps as well,
probably her client.
Mama was a ****.
"Kou, get down here!"
My body goes rigid for a moment, but I relax and hurry downstairs.
The Mother was not to be kept waiting.
.   .   .
I creep down the stairs, careful not to be noisy.
Mama hated that.
She was a tall, intimidating woman, standing at 5'11,
attractive body,
pretty face,
all you would expect out of a *** worker.
She points to all of the mess scattered across the house, her doing.
"Get to it. With haste."
She takes her client, a man who looks like he's in his late 20's
up to her room and closes the door.
.  .  .
Only 5 minutes after I start to clean, the man comes down and leaves out the door.
What a loser quick shot.
Mama stomps down the stairs and immediately gets in my face,
her breath reeking of smoke and alcohol.
.  .  .
The beating was quicker this time, but I still felt the burning hatred inside of me.
I was going to **** that *****.

I step into the crooked house,
dreadful of my mother's return.

the house was a mess, per usual
her menstrual blood splattered across every tile
what a disgusting wretch.
I want to chop her up.

I creep up the wooden stairs to my door
it stays open because I never bothered to fix the doorknob.
it was bright in my bland room, the sunlight shining
through the blinds
my puny retinas are unable to handle it, I hurry and shut them.

I can hear the front door whine.
I wince.
She's back.

these ****** playing for both sides
i gotta watch my step

dealing with cards I dealt
i tend to overstep
i tend to-
im tryna find myself
tryna define the pen
water repeating cycle
vacuum the rug again
vegetables in the sink
i tend to overthink
i'll never get over this
feeling anemic again

the **** can take a toll.

smoke alarm still chirping,
my forehead against the wall

cycle of sin, tryna stop it
typing this in, prolly drop it
wait, lets weigh my options
2 weeks, a fortnight
till this **** will be over with.

i been alone in my **** for the longest,
future ain't as predictable as it seem
tired as ****, ain't been sleeping right
at the bottom of the pit,
seeing hallucinations of the past
my presence is fading