Mid

Wish I would’ve paid more attention in English class.

A vanity solely on merit.

The words here left by me, to no one am I writing.

Bequeathed.

I’d like to see them live on a long time.

I’d like it if someone were to tell me if I’m lame that I want them to receive acclaim.

High court accolades where you fine nobles art passing favorites.

That’d be fine by me.

But lately in my lust, have I become a misers razor for some mid I lop oft.

Yet others waller in the mire unaware when cold frosts hit a poacher of them I be & open their bellies, spilling it tabled, for strangers a feast.

I would waste them on my taste for flair, spat slap out money-guns like I’m young, rich & handsome.

Make em so f*****g Gåñg$tër.

They lean half out head thrown back in the seat of a 1984 pumpernickel ragtop suicide Cadillac DeVille spinning on 4 40s bumping FUKASWISHER.

I want to kill it.

I thought with poetry you just take what you’re feeling & say it pretty.

Crazy huh.