My Pen & Lens Gets Off 📓📸

Knowing my very breath has a chance, my body I move to complete tasks masked as chores, as to why my laundry list of things I'm needing to rearrange like all my socks go together in my drawer.

I talk from the pen to the pad, it has no body.

I’m learning from people, lyrics and signs. Writing down what’s on my mind for later to remind me of the hysterics of life.

It started off all good until some blood violated my waters that were still. Bad thing is, some things will never change. My life all bruised up from minds thinking blood means depth and water only brings stress. That’s bullshit. I obtained wounds from a one sided cold war that knocked on my door. Too bad I let it in. Couldn’t scream or shout, I thought that would bring a sin, unchangeable, without doubt.

Is there anyone around here asking God for a bigger and brighter sign? Because they’re getting louder and even more blatant with time. Okay okay, just let no one forget the thoughts of this day. Dead Prez say “it’s bigger than Hip-Hop”, I say “it’s bigger than all the bullshit I did yesterday”

Do things before the bell rings and I’m forced to stop talking when I really needed to sing

I need to figure out a master plan, because this shit is bigger than any one man, I’m speechless, thinking too much to even speak on this. Tell me the one person here who fixes. Never know when it’s your time to go, yet I still want to be a witness

My eyes are closed, this gives me time for my soul to search. I greedily split past and future through tunnels of limited time, breath only lasts when it is used wisely. My hands, call them dirty from the hole I dug to figure what happens when blood mixes, tell me the one person here who fixes