I haven't lived a day in my life
Just been existing
Trapped in this bubble
like these words I write
The ink nestled
between blue lines
wishing to be whispers
traveling free
through the air
like the breeze i feel on cold benches

I feel like (hip) hopping over the (know)ledge
and free(style) falling into a poets notebook
take me with you on that train (of thought)
going to the shore so i can surf the (brain) waves that flow like a tsunami..
i’ll write my name, followed by ‘was here’, on every single rock and roll them down hills
i’ll carve my name in the poet tree that is used to sun block parties
so you can rest in the shade,
sip your long island ice tea
listen to boogie down productions,
with your feet in the brook(lyn) as your queen got her man hat on
i will stand like a hitchhiker on the side of the road all day and night
until i pass out
pieces of my soul to at least one passer by
i want to reach the mind of that *** that talks so much jazz,
someone beat(box)s him black and blues
i want to tell him there is an alternative to living life without 'breaking' rules and searching for the next 'fix'
i want to tell mother nature to stop wasting food and feeding lies to her kids
i want to tell father time to stop with the ticks...

if I close this book hard enough
I'll hurt my feelings
my soul will be squashed
my heart will break into a million pieces
my spirit will be trapped like dogs on a leash
or birds in a cage
in this notebook, its more then just words on a page