Sonnet #5

The soul cannot be proven like genes that form the spirit

My greatest sin’s awareness too severe to be near to

I freestyle – off the top – I can’t say I engineered it

He or she who lends an ear to…me…I domineer to

Scheme, scam, plan, play, love is like living in your finest day

Shining like a crime that descended from the heavens – oh!

Pimping out Christmas on the corner since then till dismay

Lick my balls, no thought’s unspared, my poetry’s semen – al

Grinning like a cynic as I lie to you euphoric

Truth spinning like the globe on the fingertips of trotters

Changing like a memory – it’s not the way you stored it

I liked the girl I had till I saw somebody hotter

Thinking like a pig in pervwords yet oinking like a gent

Question Demise: What if no one ever shot 50 Cent?

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Sonnet #4

Hell is my habitat, it hurts to have to fathom that, yes

Drugs, stress, dread, unwanted thoughts of other people having sex

I think I’m depleted, I think I’m defeatist, I lost it

I think I’m heroic, professional poet, I got this

Alternating between dreams and metaphysical nightmares

If you’re still there – I’m here, spaced-out and aware, single but paired

I am Air McNair in this shadow game – the final pass thrown

I could have stayed in class but dropped out as an iconoclast

How’s that working out for you? The question’s posed rhetorically

You saw me suffer stoically, study here the sordid me

I’m addicted to a risk, the supply seems unlimited

Decorum’s an illusion that dresses up the primitive

Is it cynical to notice, have I made you cynical

You used to wonder what I thought – now you think identical