Chicago-Midwest
Momma is somewhat schizoid, but that's what makes her normal.She walks cracked curbs on side street shores like a tight rope dividing two of her three natures. The third is so insugnifigant we won't bother to address it here. It's this fine line between being a domineering fag hag and a neo Victorian BDSM submissive.I can say that! I made her up.She's a composite, kind of like an alloy only more plasticI mean she unconsciously expresses the desire to have beautiful meaningless cuddly chat sessions with Johnny Mathis, Prince and Boy George in the nude, and deeply healing spiritually cleansing fucks with thugs and the most misogynist men that would commit to marry her."Anyway Ray Ray can I call you by your real name? I like Kief Crystal and we been friends, like forever". Pookie whose given name was Pax Zoe, understood what it was like to have name that could get you jumped on for correcting someone's pronouncement of it and let his glance fall away from this girl / woman, his BBF, road dog from back in the day and toward the agates in the cement before continuing, "I mean like, you know, shit. We go back before Head Start and the "Clean Up" song. Ray Ray bumps Pax's Fist with hers and says, "Man, I told yo punk ass not to talk about that shit no mo'. Shit! The Clean Up Song. Nig! You wrong for that. But we paid now Nig!, So, like you trying to ask me something? You know the Frame done blew up and I got humps and bumps in all the right places and shit. No I'm saying?"-Nervous Break-Something 'bout the evening air in summer timeCertain sounds that I need to hear, I wanna rhyme.My Innervision(1) causes my metabolism to climb andthen I scatter my wisdom in the designI leave time suspended and break gravities lawI leave time suspended and break gravity’s lawMetaforce to the world ain’t spinning no moreAnd from there I put sounds to hear, no order there??So that we’re something y’all will compare to BaudelaireBreak overlyrics link minds helix time suspended in this animated state
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  • Chicago-Midwest
    The "L" Word Tandemed
    Category: Writing and Poetry
    I can't believe that faggot ass street merchant said that shit out loud

    "I hate you, you're fuckin' God, little skank! Now you're gonna have his baby. I hope it's a girl!"

    All I could think to say was,

    I'm just like you and

    everybody else and

    I have to remind myself of that so

    I don't act like you.

    Sore from being fucked by

    people trying to

    escape reality

    I was a poet

    pen ejaculating strings

    of black pearls on desert floors

    where only the sun and moon read your words in earnest

    where only the winds repeat what you say

    where only the mountains understand

    where only the skies appauld

    where mercy is clouds opening to cry and

    give you more room to write

    they never call your name

    because they never leave you

    People never listen to your words

    just wait to judge the choir

    swine sopping up spilt spirits

    empty compliments falling heavy

    as sweat sock wet bills, loose change and

    condom wrappers on tvs in

    mission district hotel rooms

    walking away feeling as if

    they'd done something good for you

    You learn young to fuck for money

    so that you can keep your mind and

    heart and

    spirit

    pure and

    clean

    praying and

    waiting for

    the moment love

    walks in and loves what you love

    more than they love

    how you feed their lusts



    They're going to kill you tomorrow and

    you're bringing them home for dinner tonight

    Selfish son of a bitch! Fuck them!

    She paces the kitchen floor

    I hope they'll be okay with fishsticks and 20/20

    We're broke you know

    Tomorrow night you'll be dead or

    worse

    dieing

    and then the world will go back to normal.

    They'll never change, they'll talk about how wonderful you are, what you've done for them and they're gonna call me a whore.

    Shit! I'm a whore, but damn I am your wife again

    And I want you to stay here with us

    rubs her belly where his baby "Grail" kicks and begins singing the only song she knows the words and meaning of

    Angels take the elevator down to eavesdrop.

    Mike's in tears whispering "Sang! Gurl! Sang!

    Gib forgets his place, spits on his reed, tightens it up and blows arabian jasmine breezes all through the ghetto and into her kitchen window.

    "Didn't I tell you
    What I believe
    Did somebody say that
    A love like that won't last
    Didn't I give you
    All that I've got to give baby"


    Down the street she hears him singing

    "If we happen to part
    Lord knows I don't want that
    But hey, we can't be mad at God
    We met today for a reason
    I think I'm on the right track now"
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