Sunrise waits hours away
at the stoplight before dawn
the navaswam not yet
even crisping the morning air
and it happens again

my eyes open automatically
mind piercing the dark
1:27 a.m. decision
this flesh defiant
toward the digital god

so it begins again
where should I go?
whom will I meet?
what set in motion?
and it matters because?...

all this wondering
in a nanosecond
before I remember
those are not real
they are only thoughts

just time and space games
insomniac headtrips
when the fact is
I always wake up yearning
before the sun

I dont ever wanna make you feal like u werent enuff for me
Im Stuck on beats eternaly searching deep for the love beneath
Something keeps calling me no apologies follow me
Accept all of me maybe take the fall for me this wall is weak lets break it down with an ice pick
Lets reshape the crown for ur highness
Excape the crowd till u cant find us
We keep these scars too remind us dont fall 4 their blind trust
spine crushed without ur divine touch
Im done

But ready too start again in no time
A ghost writes my lyrics while u borrow ghost rights the game is so grimes you'll go blind


from staring up at the sun shine
One mic is all that is needed too become prime one time for my second hand addicts right winged savages on automatic why panic when u feal gigantic walking around on my ghost planet taking no damage
U wont manage acting so frantic
Invoked madness

In every pesant and vagrant
Becuz my essence is sacred
With every sentence connected
This headtrips defective im restless not connected infested the surface on purpose im wreckless confessions of an mcs lost sessions hoping that u.got questions im not stressing
These thoughts are weapons
Mic checking u too death your less im more when I press record check the cords before making a.mess on the floor opening the store knowing that youll receive more

I.dont wanna let u in
Your like toxic oxygen

Its ok. Its the end my friend
Lets runaway pretend
im here again
X3

but the moment was so ambrosial,
like snow melting in gorgeous chestnut hair,
like Coltrane's Favorite Things for the hundred-thousandth time,
like the morning Sun shining
through Manuka honey
slowly dripping off my spoon into
the black abyss of my coffee cup.

I am present.
I promise, ya.

I'm indebted to the
wretched headtrips of "yesterday"
for never letting me do more
than whisper a single death wish
(thank you)
between labored breaths.
I'm deathless now.
just flesh stretched tight over bright smiling, and otherwise unbridled,
sunlight in love with just being here to lend the luminosity in the first place.

I only learn of grace
from kids grinning and ripping birthday gifts open in grainy VHS tapes I probably shoplifted from the local thrift shop.
Either there or on park benches
tossing seeds to flocks of pigeons
cooing at my feet.
Did you know they were brought
to this country by immigrant chefs?

Again, I'm present.
Honestly.
I'm as conscious of it all as it gets;
the God of the phenomenological slog
we all call "the now",
unbound from His vow of vigilance
in the watch-and-plot of all apocalyptic
loss of momentum...

my attention span is like
incense smoke curling out of
a monastery window somewhere
in the Himalayas,
like the hidden weight of a whispered "thank you",
like the half empty silver cigarette case rattling in Camus' coatpocket as he walks,
collar up and head down,
to Café de Flore for breakfast.
or lunch.
or...

I'm present.
I promise.
(thank you)
I'm present.
Honest to God.
(thank you)

I'm ******* nowhere.
no, thank you.

I'm present.