I swear, man.

People, my people specifically are much more interested in talking about the fact that I make music rather than checking it out.

Well any of my work really but mainly the music.

I mean, I don't care what other people think, trust that ain't it.

It's the lack of sincerity.

Like "Oooh you're a musician? What style? Link me to your shit!"

Why, so you can not listen to it like everyone else and their Mom is doing?

This is what I mean about blowing smoke, man.

You ain't gotta spew nothing at me. Cause I ride around all day bumping my shit with a big smile on my face.

What did you think this is?

Loser-Ship

Loser-ship is like a stink that doesn’t wash off. 

You can hide behind fancy clothes, a nice hat, tattoos and sunglasses but wherever you go and whatever you do that big old monster is always poking its head. 

As obvious as a turned out pocket.

Sometimes I am low.

But I never stop.

Even if the mere movement is infinitesimal.

It is there.

I remember when

I didn't know what I needed to know.

And it ain't even that.

It's the "What is it that I need to know to UNDERSTAND what I need to know!'

Feel me?

Do you remember that?

Because I never stop feeling that way.

Regret

My only life regret is not discovering the things that I love sooner.

You couldn't argue the girl.
(You wouldn't swallow hot coals either)

But you grabbed,
Plunged, mouth first

An errant stunt-moron
A one person tunnel boring machine

Cutting holes of the 6 ft deep vintage

Singe the flesh from your lips,
Burn through your esophagus

They'll cheer you in the ICU
She'll celebrate your recovery

Maybe concede a draw
(With caveats and conditions)

Soulmates

An agreed inclination
Towards the guiltiest of the guilty pleasures
Like the flip side of each others favorite coin
Dipped in the same essence
Half-formed in separate wombs
With a shared secret handshake