prolepsis

I sit wondering pondering
contemplating time zonin'
thinking, what this work means to me
I am contemplating high scale nuanced thievery
to steal time with my mind
singing a plea from a honey soaked throat
lined with rhymes
a derelict lyricist am I - a trainspotting
heaps of mess but I will keep the weed and you can keep the rest
The debaters can keep the test
I don't give a fuck, rather show my ass
then give you trust, they say you got no enemy like water
but that is a lie cause you a money grubbin hoarding loose shot-er
breaking all the backboards as the points
you gain keep your flowers watered
the words I write don't keep in time
who says I should only be a poet
cause I only write when inspired but I don't speak
unless I am spoken to
God's words where those ink spliced words flow thru
leak through the paper on to the
the porous skin of every person I have ever
wrote to
or about or for, loosing my mind
talking to myself like I have a twin
I only lose to win with you and it is eating at my core
rotten apple spit it up
baby food for your bullshit huh? Just keep the trees
growing and the leap to faith going
let the air blow you forward
maybe the sweetness will taste bitter
once you realize you never meant to kill her
the but the bullet to the back and the ache is still the same
laying on the asphalt, chalk drawing out my name
curved lines mirroring the leftovers of my have-not self,
eerie looking isn't it?
that dead derelict self-degrading lyricist.