I used to sip liquor like elixir till my liver get sicker,
face faceless invasions with narrow arrows and no quiver,
waiting to deliver the speeches that was better than feces.
Thought it might be aight to see the white light with Jesus.
Wanna be a millionaire. Where the hell is Regis?
Couldn’t speak my mind. No telekinesis.
Got over succeeding so instead of achieving
I stuck to weed breathing, greed fiending
to seek semen swimming in women and sinning and weaving
a sweater wetter than tears to be dripping. I’m grieving.
Adrenaline trembling, melanin felony,
melancholy’s colonizing my memories.
I’ll call the shots, take alcohol shots
but booze will bruise my thoughts.
Bruised collarbone, dialing the phone home
I remember I was never really ever all alone.
Though my style of poem has a versatile flow
I could flow up the mountain, but first I grow old
watching the throne for far too long
to sit around and frown and wish I made songs.
So I’m making this, hoping some day I make it.
Make shift occur with makeshift words.
I may mince words, mix proverb with slur
but this author of verse will auto-reverse
and offer a hearse to anyone who never heard me off a verse.
When on a verse, chuck down like Converse.
I chop ‘em down like conifers. The thought kinda hurts.
what more do you want from your song singer?
Wake up, Chakra sir.

Now I don’t even know if I’m real.
Am I real?

I don’t think I’ll ever find the answer.
My brain, it’s a little tiny belly dancer.
Entranced by the devil’s fancy.
Tryna get in pants but now I’m getting ancy.
I never got behind on kicking my own behind.
Kicking the beehive trying to feel alive.
Gonna be Akeela, someday I’ll just be fine
but I’m sipping on tequila, drinking all of the wine.
Getting sick of water, now I’m M-A-D hydrated.
I’m faded. I hate it. Start to rewind
the cassette deck that’s stretched across me mind.
When I wake up, open three eyes.
See behind the mirror. My vision getting clearer
when the terror of error gets nearer.
Got a pair of shoes and a parachute.
I’m going out suns out, guns out, I’m prepared to shoot.

It’s hard to oxidize the thoughts and lies that often lie below those pinstripe ties
that decide how I abide in my abode. Let me live life on my own road.
It’s hard to oxidize the thoughts and lies that often lie below those awful skies
that decide how I abide in my abode. Let me live life on my own road.

See I beast the beats when I speaks my heat.
I don’t need deceit just to see receipts.
Treating trick or treaters to middle finger theaters.
Whether hyena or cheetah, enter the fighting arena.
Whatever pie you be eating it’s my style you be needing
and biting and baking a cake to be stealing.
While the mind might be tweaking, my mama taught me believe in the self.
Then you won’t need all the wealth.
‘Cause whatever you sell is just a shell of your self.
You’re tryna elevate it to the store shelf for the pocket health
and using pesos to pay for souls.
Guess we’re sowing seeds of greed to grow.
In the garden of Eden, kiddies are starving not eating,
clocked and boxed in. Mohammed Ali-ing,
Me I been weakening, reeking of weed,
and needing the heaving and breathe
and heeding the reasons to see the demons are shrieking and beat
and evening meets the meaning of sleep
and we can just breathe and see that we’re real.
If I could breathe I would see that I’m real.
If I could breathe I would see that I’m real.
But it’s hard to oxidize the thoughts and lies.