Somewhere in South Minneapolis,
Changing shirts feels like picking scabs at this time of day…
Rub my blackened eyes for the 15th time and fly away.
Playing dumb out of sheer wits-head to the sky, on account of giving a shit.
Vulnerability is a bitch.
No one is playing tricks.
Competition what’s that?
Healthy and sick.
So sit back.
Statistically right with insight.
Come fuck me, lovely.
Above the rest of the ugly, yet still paying homage to my goals.
Ask everyone with the polls,
(everyone around me knows)
Underground soul not to be sold.
Never on sale.
Growing like mold.
Out of control.
Learning and progressing forward from the old…
She comes to blow then go.
Out slow-straight process.
Cesspool flow, coming from the dome which most loath out of logic.
Its known to be known.
I just push my bike pedals and roll.
Think about it, ask about me.
I’ll be downtown nightly, getting trashed probably.
Naps are necessary.