who woulda thought
i’m used to loss
so when the rooster call proceeded showers of irises i was truly awed
offa jawin bout compulsions & accoutrement
happy to be audited with more than zeros and minuses to report
tight rope walkin between
cool and calm and
too involved with
who of y’all saw, and who
wrote it off
simultaneously juggling my love for you and art
& averting a past version of myself attempting to shoot me off
the tight rope
dancin' clown
barkin' carnie
burden
sideshow
bob

i blew opportunities like transmissions
when I knew i could be posin' a threat to this damn business
yeah right,
it’s funny how how the goals switch
maybe not switch
but adjust as you decode myth
indie rap renaissance
2012 ant’s basement
chase a buzz more ways than one like a gold snitch
tyler ate a roach,
king steelo wore a panda mask,
i’m the same age as joey bad
could you imagine that?
(Why not me?)
delusions of grandeur
sleepin' on justin’s couch
got a lil too used to my timbre and he then rushed me out
cold day in July
holey vans stickin' out the window of my '93
in the heat
i was out
splitting pennies
half cents
cranberries
raspberries
on my knees
i was tryna trace the source of the leak
almost scared straight like a quarter to 3
with no iota of a clue of what’s important to me.
swallow pride
where i’m at?
fear and loathing in ma’s basement
was peerin' back at a mirror image of non stable
another brick in a pyramid made of art failure
10,000 hours was masquerading as lost stasis

cross my t’s and dry my eyes.
i think that funny people are the saddest.
'cause i don’t wanna see you cry.
i just wanna see you laugh.
what i tell myself
i wrote that line when i was in hell myself
i was tryna
compel myself
to
propel myself
to the surface
when i felt the only options were
leave earth,
or be perfect,
be worthless,
or sell myself.
black and white like
a 2012 hood by air t-shirt
i couldn’t get my hands on but it it would stupid on me anyway
hated my body and the drape of any garment.
never be beautiful enough to ever be important
deifying stick figures on the wall of this cave
self hatred and doubt latched a ball and a chain
spendin' all my time neglectin'
all but bars to name.
with a speck of recognition
it would all go away.
framing arduous pain parables
targeting fame
as if i made it to the root,
all my art would be fake.
as if i’d lose some kinda edge and couldn’t sharpen the blade.
so I sharpened and I cut 'til I was raw as fillet
counting my days
in a constant malaise
my soundclouds are grey
1 like and a comment that’s fake.
mass consumption was my college i was studying greats
was impressed
and resentful
was in awe
and ashamed
everybody graduating
i was loading boxes and crates,
hangin' on by a thread and couldn’t hold a dollar to save
i was showing brett my songs
tav and daryl the same,
tellin' me i should be on
and I thought they were playin'

wasn’t concerned with being a good person.
rather be regarded as a good wordsmith.
i don’t get it.
i don't get it.

you could love me for me
but I need to know i’m not wasting my time.
you could love me for me,
but what about this sentence structure?

but still i’d write all the same.
but still i write all the same
but still i write all the same
but still i write.

i told myself no.
i told myself no,
not you
i told myself no.
my understanding of love is,
skewed

local liquor anesthetic
until a low balance warning
me and this last lonely toxin
that probably won’t last until the morning
in my car still.