mine eyes stare at the sun cause i haven't seen much worth shit,
the walking prelude to a kiss that does not exist,
clinching moon rays ;hand out the window ;cigarette in fist,
selfish writer who cannot escape the "I" or "me",
liver regaining life from underage Hennesy,
scented with cocoa butter, toilet water, and smoke,
when i die i want them to recite what i wrote,
A/C student riding the waves of youthful confusion,
always allowing breast,buttocks,and lips for intrusion,
carries a pad with him in his left pocket,
around his neck lay a many different lockets,
of late accompanied by a Brazilian,the Joy, or a man identified as Reed,
all sitting contemplating life while their eyes bleed,
fathers face is his when he looks in the glass,
and hes chasing the same standards for chivalry and class,
no woman now; most Ive known hate my site,
so i hold onto the stars and fornicate with pale light,
slim or skinny both claim title to his figure,
the blank expression on his face populates many pictures,
with two heads and four eyes; and half a brain,
destitute of half the signs that he's sane,
many times stepping forward or back from destruction,
every step he owns is light percussion,
nothing too self doubtful about his person,
a cynic though waiting like an old man for conditions to worsen,
speaks too many but revealing to very few,
i wouldn't tell you everything even if i knew you,
face in a book ears glued to jazz and soul,
hes warm at heart when the weather is cold,
inside him dwells an invincible wit,
never too far away from a smart ass statement,
complacent...he will continue

Leona One in Six

her hymen broke when she was thirteen along with her dreams,
it was not her choice to lose her self esteem,
she gave up on men and lost lost all her confidence,
now there's no hope in her or thoughts of resilience,
she smells of hazel ,coral bells , and gin,
her face;plain, eyes; gray, figure;thin,
and her stringy brown hair chases her shadow ,
as if a mirror afoot men look into her checking their echo,
gazing straight but seeing the ground,
she walks as if she were trying to avoid sound,
waiting on the corner under streetlight inspection,
she sits smoking bitterly in retrospection,
they come in her room quiet and don't ask or tell;then shes took,
and when they finish with her ;never a second look,
she repeats more misery every time she switches tricks,
men with no desire to love leave her eternally sick,
living every moment of her first time over and over again,
shes a slave to cocaine , a man with a cane, and wallows in all her sins,
mind never together far apart sprawled out like her legs,
usually found on her knees but does not ever beg,
she takes the money to a man that treats her like father,
none for her, none to steal, she sees no reason to bother,
she neglects her own spirit but tries to keep her body clean,
she showers in her hotel room before any act obscene,
some men like to hit her, some men like to spit ,
some men do not stop when she yells "quit!!!!!",
she works parties and partakes with women too,
she makes more money if subject for groups,
this woman is a lovely painting of abuse,
she will lay in sorrow and plead for misuse,
men full of promethazine who emanate marijuana,
the neighborhood where she was raised held no such drama,
desire to escape but shes blank;so no attempt,
all her being will go to her pimp.


....are you a pimp?

opaque rays shining through,
the glass is hardly stained,
moving grays float to blue,
but black will be obtained,

the theme for thinking sitting with no soul round,
the mind realizes its solitude and holds onto the justice,
the ashes float like snow toward the ground,
a glass of liver demise and a stiff wrist never fusses ,

Fuck the world around him,
he'll go into his own mind,
Where thoughts of bodies swim,
and where waves of you recline,

the outline for pre -insanity.
every damn night.

first one(reigning)

its been raining for a score of minutes non-stop,
my foot tapping holes in the floor,
I've failed to find my reflections in any of the sky's teary drops,
my grail carries the backwash of concise whores,
i desire not to reflect on this,
no one gives into misdirection,
ill salt the earth with my wit,
impregnate it and desert it after she realizes conception,
the sorrowful simulation sits and stares at the illumination,
writes down its feelings in a white box ; rhyming ,
and expects to feel unashamed of deviant consummation,
ill drink to death,ill drink to sin,ill drink to things thought wrong,
touche' without my savoir-faire of these things i wouldn't have lasted this long...