Underground like Hoffa –
Subjugate like Baron Karza (Kartha) –
You don’t want smoke no roach, you rap hoax
Faux Kafka –
Celebrate made a holiday out ya worst horror –
Unparalleled peril pen whip up an anguish worth sum dollars –
Rappers cut themselves on the knife I was
Holding –
Determined to sharpen letters
Determined to kill better –
You dared to dream to succeed where God’s
Failed –
Made a mockery –
A novelty even the fake being fake is
Authentic –
Cops pop hoods to block dash cams –
5 exclamation points !!!!! for emphasis
Salts the clouds – no second sight incoherent
From experience inert a wreckage
Cigarette filters and oceans congested
Mentally breached under the siege
Bereaved a pain wave a point of entry pen
W/a slasher films precision – a shellfish toxin
Mixed w/ water frozen into the form of a dart
Dissolved in the blood stream stopped your heart
Your kingdom is a hole in the ground –
This is not sleep – sleep is death’s
8 hr. Volunteer dress rehearsal –
Death is a sleeping contest that lasts forever
That sooner affects you than ME –
You a WASH – A bidet
This is debris – in disarray –
A perfumed scent of sweat rot –
And decay foes in an artisan bowl resemble
Soup shaped as a urinal during decomp –
A new thought for an object a readymade
A urinal bowl signed R. Mutt by Duchamp –
The Stoned Clairvoyant of Hip Hop –
The All- Star Matta Wilfredo Lam of rap
That I am –

In Summer Camp, I learned I like ants –
I was that kid alone on the playground w/ the bag of Lay’s
Potato chips alone on the swings by himself
That let an ant crawl onto a potato chip then
Ate it – then I licked the salt from my lips –
That’s some stupid embarrassing dumb kid shit –
The first time I tried anal @ 18, it was an accident
She bled a little – not enough lube but spit –
And all I could fit-
Was the tip –
It’s not vaginal so no natural lubricant –
And you can’t aim your dick straight
You have to take the tip and enter down and then left – it was awesome –
I liked it – but my reviews were mixed –
My dick was squeezed into a confined space
That it barely fit, but it felt dry, warm,
Yet pleasant – magnificent – now I’m
Obsessed w/ that shit – when I pulled out –
The tip of my dick was covered in a mound of shit
That smeared onto the sheets –
The aroma was wretched – lingered and reeked –
That scent carried over beats –
Why is ink adverse to sleep?
Usually, I can’t sleep – sleep is death’s
8 hr. dress rehearsal – btwn 3 and 5am –
The pen is an unworthy friend –
This fickled thing –
A pen made sure that sleep is denied me –
Sleep is death’s 8 hr. dress rehearsal
I watched a Spanish soap opera on an iPad
Propped on top of my girlfriend’s head
And she dreamt in Spanish –
My girlfriend asked me,
“If I write a rhyme on your head, would
It be my rhyme?” I replied,
“Stay still, as I’m writing the next line”
An empty page aches to greet me –
Haunting me in the after times in
Better days –
I use to sleep instead of using ink where
I’m awake and now my eyes are strained –
Evasive in rest even in darkness –
I answer to the ink I serve –
It yearns to end the triumph of a blank
Page as ink’s servant, I am suffering –
Why is ink so adverse to sleep? –
Why is ink so adverse to sleep? –
It’s 5:30 in the morning so there’s
No sunlight –
Getting up to go to work, my girl is holding
Her phone over the page as I write –
Fresh like a baby eating its own poop
Out the pamper –
Look @ you innocently –
Smiling, rubbing its tummy, smeared
Feces all over its mouth - smacking its lips
Saying, “Yeah, I’m the shit!”
“Yeah, I’m the shit!”