I’m Not A Poet… I’m A Retired Gangster…

“I will never be a slave to correct-ness”

 

 

The pharoh the phenomenon of my ancestors blood be aware that all the gold diamonds will return back to mud nothing but speech diseases spreading beheading my hope problems get swollowed like contraband down the throat kids bids baby bibs tears I swear I’m going crazy here just because I  was born here don’t make me from here light beer turned to wine for this light year age of the Aquarius how old is she or he then bend metal with the mind open in position for the positive mind to expand like big dick up in a uturus I do what I want with no pause button for my future to end with words from faces like he was a real man so there is no one more loyal than I am reciting the Torah in a Moorish clothing baited by feds but they never cought me fuck the world for breeding criticism in everything like you should do this and you should do that No Chris do what the hell Chris wants to do my murder will be standing up from the people who say you can’t you can and when I get into my comfy burgundy velvet casket drop me in it upside down so you can kiss my dead ass cheeks you bastards