Too Delusional To Love

Too Delusional To Love

I waited for the call, that I knew was never going to come

The voice that would finalize my story once and for all

All of this time I have been waiting for you…

It is silent…there are no needles falling…

Like stones I cast out my thoughts while hoping that one may catch your attention

“As soon as you receive this letter come find me…I am in desperate need of an audience.”

Written in bold thick ink 

I pour my heart out to you…

Pressing down onto these keys as though I were Beethoven...

My apologizes…my thoughts are as his ears were…yet still I will do my best to try to make you feel my words…my love, lust, urge to feel, breath and taste every part of your soul….

If pleasure had a taste it would cripple me

Tare me down and leave me bare in these dirty streets

Stuttering my own...

I Now Know

I never knew exactly why she sings.

As beautiful as she sounds…I have never once asked her why.

Instead I just sit and listen.

Sometimes I find myself smiling…at times crying.

It all depends on how it all makes me feel.

I placed my feet into her shoes today.

Immediately I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders.

The urge to belt out something spectacular…

Something that I knew that I could never produce through my eyes

So instead I recite with a tune…and maybe a word or two.

I felt as my feet dung into the soles of these shoes.

Back and forth I rocked…side-to-side I moved.

Around…and around...I looked.

All spectators watching on as I sang my song.

Yet no one could see my tears fall.

These dark solid eyes…never once showed any sadness.

My voice never cracked…I always hit the right note…at the righ...

Call me Blk

Black as the silt from a burnt down tree, I break ground wherever I lay my bare feet.

I stand alone on an open field, casting shadows in places that I should never be.

It took many years for me to get to this place; I have finally shot down my pride and hate and now all that’s left is its remains.

Shots echoing in the dead streets…over casting the remains of my past dried up tears spewed heavily on concrete walls like graffiti.

Telling a story about a boy who never learned how to just say no.

Call me Blk the lyricly inclined brotha who has no sense of direction.

There is never peace in my world; there is always a story to tell

There is always a reason, a background story to the sh*t that I tell.

I told my story in many ways than one.

I have more faces than them Gemini’s who are thinking about crossin the street.

I am paving a way for all who will be coming after ...

My 2nd Mind

First hand experience

Last minute deal

One last tear before I hit this blunt and leave.

I gave up my last right some years ago.

Fists balled, feet planted eyes yelling nothing but anger.

I feed off of it

And empty out realness.

The things that I feel the need to say becomes something amazing

I have no training this is all built up anger.

And instead of me lashing out at just one person I choose to lash out at the world….

My story has been told in many ways then one.

My tears have formed bodies of water that has been seen from one country to another.

Words so simple it should be crime…a sin, I am a rookie at what I do yet still I am progressing.

I hold no titles and no claim to what I do or say.

I was told that it was all but ok to follow my first mind…I should be following my second….

[Clears throat]