Sunday, November 21, 2010

girls shake it.

This sky used to be full of white, I used to be high up there. I've asked myself what happened so many times it's a response to salutation, meaningless. A box of used memories keeps me company, and my door is firmly shut. Today, I tell myself, will fade into the next, and when it happens I won't be so surprised. I started to take care of far too many plants, and I often forget to water them all. I started to think I'd be better off in the desert, but I'm not as tough anymore. Where my arms used to reach to but never came close enough to touch has become smeared and finger-greased all-too-familiar, I know this place too well, I can feel and smell all I want to but I won't. I put my foot down along time ago, my boots are cool now, and I feel a fire roast in my stomach. I don't have indigestion, everything is fine. I'll dive when the ship hits the bottom of the ocean, I'll see the world burn but not by my hands. I'll be the voice that was left silent for so long it has become a thought, a ponder, and a wonder of where and how, who this be, and what can't be said is what is spoken in words as text, and a stranger to all. Kissing goodbyes, these days, kissing high-fives like smacks and kicks to the groin for my big month. I think I forgot how to lie, and all I have to say is that today is your today, with one kick, yelling this is very much sparta. Into a pit, I hope there are spikes to meet you, I hope it hurts. To my enemies I flash pistols, to my friends I pour forty oh-zee's, so girls shake those thangs, make every rotation count, and if you cry you cry, just carry on, singing that song, in full so this chorus sounds heavy and phat, for anything else can sleep like dirt naps, and I don't sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death. (and I say, ain't that right, and I wait for Nas to respond, right-right-right-one-mic-aight.)

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