I wrote this because I was asked why i don’t sell what i write and just give it away….. Problem here is I am the one who asked myself this question.   So if you respond to yourself you’re crazy, right?  lol.  maybe…….

Writing is not what I do.

 It’s who I am. 

Its not where I came from. 

Its how I began.                         

My words I give away like a prize in a raffle. 

There are no tickets sold or folded and ripped from their counterparts. 

I simply write to counter heart burns and breaks. 

Double takes in my dream state state my original observation was all fake. 

For Heavens sake

I mistake purpose for talent and balance

on the nexus of altered states of sleep deprivation and manic highs

I rise into the sunshine when my eyes go blind and my mental intertwines

w/ fanatical imagination and reality which brings about tactical precision

sharp as knives and sweeter than honey directly from hives

this is the point where me and my krazy high five

so I sit and stare into bright screens

too impatient to take the time and write

I hear voices speaking poetry to me and I don’t fight

They tell me to write this down

Jot this down

Say this next time

turn that frown upside down

stand on your head and don’t fall down

balance

I sit back and watch myself until my corneas are calloused

Not blinking disturbs my optic nerve

I write how I think which is more than I deserve

A young boy tells me to write because nobody is listening

A young man tells me to write to cement myself

because no one would care to look for me if I came up missing

there is a woman who speaks to me and tell me to come hither

the problem w/ her is that when she moves it sounds like a slither

I’ve transitioned from fitting in to standing out

Which is not something I am proud of so when this enters

I stamp it out

I think my thoughts think they can save me

It’s like their militant and my body is a pow

They abuse me when they enslave me

They tell me things like

Krazy is as krazy does so does krazy do me like I do krazy

Leaving me baffled and from my throat they scaffold

And built structures on my tongue which expel

Dispelling any sense of reason that I feel

I feel

I feel

I feel

Scattered……….