Last Years

It’s all Me and it’s all mine. No possession, only ownership. I gotta own this shit, no matter how alone it is. I part my lips and wish for something more than bliss, derive my presence as a gift, as hard as it is to wander aimlessly. who mentioned insane, I mean the game, Can’t be taken namelessly have to attach identity to it. I mean, how could I establish myself without proving? I mean, flow congested on this beat. I need some Mucinex. I’m sick, like i’m awful, I’m the worst. I want guaranteed I want to be sure. I’ve been assured I’ll always be disturbed. That’s a promise, psychiatric disabled, it’s honest. what you wanted? You dont know scary. How can I make this true to you and me without alienating other people through my vocabulary. Style. Denial. Weird. We step up to the plate. A swing and a miss. A swing and a miss. A swing and a -/- We step up to the plate. A swing and a miss. A swing and a miss. A swing and a -/- Show us what it is. Make that contact connect, No more striking out unless it’s bowling pins. We step up to that plate, A swing and a hit. Show us what it is It’s ok if people walk out. Every punch can’t be a knock out. This fight ain’t clock in, clock out. It always goes another round. Until it doesn’t. We don’t see it plummet, At least those with the stomach To spot how we’ve been punished. Often just a light jab. Joy! Jory might like that! I’ll relay it to him! Look at the gleeful movement. May my land be ever green like suez. Language of water, I make my fluid fluent. Juice in my dreams, world lucid. We step up to the plate. A swing and a miss. A swing and a miss. A swing and a -/- We step up to the plate. A swing and a miss. A swing and a miss. A swing and a -/- Show us what it is. Make that contact connect, No more striking out unless it’s bowling pins. We step up to that plate, A swing and a hit. Show us what it is Going going gone. I know where I’m from, but I don’t know where I’ve gone. The edge of a fist. I mean a punch, not like that, you twit! Boy my head must be made of bricks. I’m dumb. It’s just adjusting my humanity. It ain’t invisible. Mirrors appease your vanity. Visuals vain, not appearing candidly. We drown in fantasy, but how we love to double down. Finding trouble fun; gamble hope to spite doubt. From the ship, we see the lighthouse and forget the darkness surrounds. Shit, the sirens song is sweet, thank god I tied myself down. Hobble my way around bases, safe at home plate We step up to the plate. A swing and a miss. A swing and a miss. A swing and a -/- We step up to the plate. A swing and a miss. A swing and a miss. A swing and a -/- Show us what it is. Make that contact connect, No more striking out unless it’s bowling pins. We step up to that plate, A swing and a hit. Show us what it is