Every second wasted breathing purpose
is an hour wasted feeling nervous;
do I deserve this, a flow of constant thoughts
allowing them to move around as my persona rots,
trots, slots, and tater tots tossed.
Allow me to show you how much I have flossed
with a smile big as the hanging moon above the floating skyline
shining down with lucent beams, almost as bright as I shine.
Black drapes, curtain call not knowing what will befall
an order tall, a man too small, an idea waiting to enthrall.
Hear the beck and call of the wild within the child
Rarely looking angry, yet they dial into the smile.
Mind runs out with the time runs a mile a minute
Making money saving honey is the trick within it.
Mental vomit onto pages sticky green with ill deceit
Green like the money pages inking out a white receipt.
Time goes by as my fingers click clacking sound
“Life goes on” was the message that Tupac had found.