from a stand point


sought-after man's point


late night jam joint

all into one

to create some sort 

of fifth-dimensional meaning 



feeling red-nose bottle cap

bitter tears

streaming down my cheeks after taps

empty wrappers, child's clothes

dried cum, freezing toes

PTSD, haunting nightmares, flashbacks

spurring on the moment

of a manufactured future ever-gleaming 



empty synthesizers on a winter's night

haunting music

piano keys played anxious fright


flashing before my bitter eyes

locked and loaded I realize


by a bold hold that's just too tight

and I feel the sight

of a third eye among

a universe whose energy is teeming 



what is this shit?

a beast wasted

who just refuses the hit?

a dish tasted

whose virtue enlarges the hips?

dips, slips, whips, snips

Who cares? the youth dares

to get their kicks

but who fares when we share

just to turn our tricks

LA to New York

Clippers to Knicks

free throw when we on

the court see this thing 

flashing in neon

Behold everything


And nothing.


For Creating

Is simply Dreaming


This poem is about: 
Our world


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