the
good becomes bad hassled by existence wild faces chasing dear deaths. a dime
bag, a blunt a beer; those years seated doing badness at a curse seeming
generational. the people I love trying to make it work or sister five kids and
a bird. we embrace misery we find it chill otherwise we feel displaced. a grave
for mother or bars for father wild ass kids trying to outwit the ghetto.
indeed, we look at you, you seem important, at least, pain seems different; we
get close we get burnt or we fall deep enlove—while society is wagging a
finger. I ate life I ran life I was abused by life. those windows in souls
those mirrors we laugh with while eight souls on a dime bag.
I asked a soul in cardboard to sense
his worth. a burger a batch of fries, twenty dollars and a beer. I skated with
anxiety I looked was watched while we do that—just looking just content while
wild in a dungeon. so much bad too much to complain much love for breaking
habits. Love is gorgeous her man is a maniac she still sees the good. we get so
close we chance our sanity wild ass kids sensing it can get bad. a bag of
potatoes a stack of bacon, families live like it was meant. over a dime bag,
over raw gin, buried in turmoil. a little too angry like flights into fury wild
ass kids screaming from the gut. too much love to forsake a grudge a patch of
souls riding for eight decades. so impatient most have little to twerk with
while wild over Eddie making Stanford.
we seem stuck on a dream but some
come true while doing ninety down Rosecrans. so much to die for, so little to
expect, where most hate Eddie. so loaded so blasted sitting on a keg. a
cigarette to get right, a bag bigger than a dime, such success while in
jeopardy.
Love is six months pregnant bed is
lumpy the stacks are obscene. she pleads with Nathan, begging to let go, while
Nathan just took his first bullet. Love held his hand blood trickled but Nathan
isn’t finished. the house was rocking the music was loud a riot ensued. such
pain atop of rain while we listen to B. B. King. a life sentence, only twenty,
looking like Marvin Gaye. a little to its environment a kit to its nurturing
while deeper than Z. Z. Hill.
