Hometown girls
are real with you.
If they don't like you,
they'll even make their *****
look ugly;
pulling them in all the way
to the tops of their thighs
through their buttholes
and you can smell the stench
in your brain.

But when they let you in,
when they let you sit on their ears,
it's like warp-drive.

They smoke virginia slims,
because that's what their mom's smoke,
and the bags under their eyes
are filled with nicotine,
but they're pretty bags,
purses of flesh
full with the kinetic beauty of coal.

Hometown girls are mostly black,
mostly white,
fifty-fity,
but nobody's checking
and when they whisper something nice in your ear
it's colored with a microbrew
or a wheel of Jim Beam.

Sometimes they'll take you by the wrist
into the bathrooms;
sometimes they'll take your drink
when you're not looking
and smile when you catch them
with it on their lips.

But that smile is good even,
on par with a supernova
in its ability to crush
and make beautiful.


But most of the time,
they stand around
outside Casbah
and Motorco
--if they're bougie
it'll be West End--
in the middle of the night
under the porch of the sky
looking out with amber
slitted eyes
like cats,
their legs twitching thoughtfully
as they wait for cabs
and pick at the night.

Hometown girls
are ****/beautiful
because they'll watch your every move
from the gallery
out of empathy,
knowing they've been that ***** before,
knowing they've been that lonely,
knowing they just want to get drunk
and want to be around randoms
that aren't so random.

The ache,
The zing through the pelvis
Trapped in an evergreen
Transcending into the pillow
Light is Black
Black is light
The brain has slithered from the skull
Out the ear, leaving a wet trail
The bliss
The suspended body transfixed on the ceiling
Eyes small like buttholes
Writhing in angst
Rolling in filth
Buzzing in a field
The *******.

She likes dressing my whisky bottle.
What kind of euphamisim is that?
You left a ******.
It's warm.
When I do this you don't feel anything.
Is this gay?
If you had a ***** it would be gay.
It's hebrew.
Why do we play?
That's what she said.
The buttholes because it's uncomforitable.
Unless you'r a Jahova's Witness.
But some of them do, and it's weird.

I don't do "love" nor do I believe in it
So I'll say that I am wildly and erotically attracted to them.
The strip clubs happen to be my church because as Jay-Z & Kanye once said "Ain't No Church In The Wild" and in the wild the laws of attraction exist only in the minds of dreamers
Everything about a stripper's lifestyle excites me endlessly
It's arousing to watch the ****** chemistry of their legs gently touching as they walk back and forth between stages.
I just want to kiss all of them between their pretty thighs and to have the miracles of their little ******* sing sweet *** to the sins of my mouth
The first thing I usually notice about a stripper is the *** because I'm an *** man and I get a small but nice amount of stimulation from the way the cheeks swing back and forth when they are on the move. Makes me just want to bend them over, spread their cheeks and just lick their **** little buttholes all night long (if they're clean of course)
I also love when they shake their ******* in front of me. The intense ****** satisfaction I get as they swing back and forth is ******* mesmerizing. The ******* are my breaking point because that's when I lose all control especially when they rub them and moan for me a little.
I particularly love watching them as they smoke their cigarettes. I always imagine my **** being in place of those cigarettes. ******* on a **** is far healthier.
Lastly I just love every inch of flawless skin that they display.
I don't give a **** about you ******* crying "She/he's a *****.", "She/he has mommy/daddy issues." "She has AIDS/***
Strippers are beautiful to me.
And I look at them as humans with higher *** drives, doper personalities and better social skills than you.

Insecurity; is a feeling of uncertainty, a lack of confidence or anxiety about yourself & your abilities...


Insecurities are nothing but impurities to the temple you call your mind..
Cloud your judgement of yourself and sometimes others..
can leave you trapped under the covers..
And not wanting to leave the room.
Cuz you don’t want to see you, you don’t others or even the world to see you, because people have left you to believe that you’re too ugly to be loved..
To weird to be accepted, to crazy to be seen as normal no matter how many people you talk to or how many people tried to tell you different, It won’t change.




These thoughts have glued them selves to your brain,
They’re stuck there, watching them rip away your self-esteem..
Hoping it’s just a dream..
But It’s a curse.

And it’s not like Cinderella or sleeping beauty because you can’t reverse this.
And we all know that you want to...
But these words they haunt you..
Wear you like a coat and flaunt you..
As each and everyday they taunt you..


Insecurities leave you with the lack of trust,, even for yourself..
Screaming for help..
But these insecurities block any sound..
So no inner beauty can be found..
Sniff around for it like a bloodhound..
But under these insecurities the true beauty is bound.

Insecurities leave you not wanting friends because you think they’ll stab you in the back like previous have.
They will leave you constantly worrying about if your (better half) will eventually pack up and leave you for someone else with little to no explanation.


That’s why to all the women out there,, tear these insecurities down..
Tear them down because they got the best of you..
Told yourself, “Without a guy, I’m just so empty inside..”
Dying to hear “I love you”, and eventually you did..
But you became nothing to be his all.

You see.
Some women get pretty and accessorize..
Tryna’ access our hearts, but they access our eyes..
Value beauty over brains, then have the nerve to be surprised..
When men disregard their thoughts just to analyze their thighs.


Men are arroused by their senses, but women do not sense it...
Spending cents to buy scents to find love,
it’s so senseless.


So please . set your standards.
NO ifs, ands or buts.
If you keep falling for buttholes, then stop showing off your ****..
Do you keep falling for losers? Then start being a winner..
Tired of being used for your body? Stop falling for sinners..
Seek godly men, Yes they got swag too.
BETTER YET, be a women.. let godly men seek you.

I don't like Hip Hop,
Mainstream or street,
See that just subliminal weak,
Crimes and messages at the peak,
They say that Columbine,
Was Marilyn's fault,
Open Wound, here salt,
Barrel Vault, body on Asphalt,
Assault, band thunderbolt,
I don't like Hip Hop,
It just the new pop,
just the new chart top,
where the artist,
that have a message,
Where is Tom Macdonald,
Madchild, Dax, Joynar Lucas,
and where the ** is Adam Calhorn,
Speaking bars not mucus,
Oh that right, Cancel Culture,
Stupid and Useless,
the messages are way to brutus,
Cancel Culture, Subcultures,
Nothing more than black vultures,
Just like demons, smell of sulphur,
Maybe Tom was right, We are all buttholes,
hook, line and sinker, hanging from poles,
Maybe Madchild isn't sober,
just honest views getting older,
Maybe Dax is mentally *******,
his songs maybe be discarded,
Rapping about emotions, disregarded,
Maybe suicide is the answer, Dax's carcass,
Maybe Joynar hit the mark,
Maybe the I'm not Racist, spark,
Two sides to every story, Let hear yours,
complaining cause you have do your chores,
complaining cause it offensive, out in stores,
Maybe Calhorn is patriot,
Standing up for his country,
In disappointment, voiced it,
Messages that put it bluntly.
Maybe it just the Controversial message,
that hits me and truth is seen, Aggressive,
Depressive, Excessive, this is not expressive.