9.18.14

Writing before bed
to unfold the thoughts in my head.

I am a Supreme Being.
Yup, I said it.
Call me a smart ass
but for my ass,
too much credit.

I fiend for excellence,
passion like pestilence,
wide and far reaching,
mind and hymen breaching,
hypnotizing, like
wide eyed fantasizing.

The words that I drop
come straight off the top
through the tip of my pen,
but my pen never stops.
Ink for days,
I got dick for weeks,
bitches go from sore knees
to exhausted in my sheets.
Achilles with the fillies
don’t love ’em just fuck ’em,
and if they ain’t fuckin’,
then fuck ’em, they ain’t nothin’.
Wanna see somethin’?
Come holla’ at a big fish.
Bitch, I’m deep dish,
where yo yeast is?
You gotta grow
if you want some mo’.
Nigga, you don’t wanna tussle
you ain’t got my hustle,
more soul in my toe
than your body got muscle,
respect the struggle,
or I’ma have to bust your bubble;
a bloody mess,
washin’ your face,
off my knuckles,
call me chuckles
while I turn your girl’s guts to rubble,
woven up in her tresses,
curin’ both of our stresses,
got her speakin’ somethin’ strange,
messin up all her s’es,
you’re just a page to be written
in her book full of exes,
I’m a King!
Your girl’s tryin’ to match my checklist,
while I’m checkin’ out bitches
on her friends list.

Step back from the little voice.
You’ll give the people no choice.
They’ll have to cast you out
for assuming such clout
without a doubt.

To be normal you must
bring none to anger, nor
make strangers feel inferior.

That’s been the heaviest
collar around my neck.
For the sake of others,
keeping myself in check.

But who holds back for me?
Who’s going to set me free?

Strangers can kick rocks.
I’d rather be a fucking boss.