mikilluminati
plotting on a way to get clients, maybe i should be little more compliant, form my words fully n tone down the violence, i subject them to when ever i start rhyming
i am sowing seeds from fruit of past labours that long expired, in the hopes that the new fruit will be even sweeter. the seeds need the soil (a conducive work environment), the air (enough to breathe) and the sun (the inspiration of many a poet.)
"what even is tofu?" i enquired, while poking around and the white lumps of.. (meat? vegetation?) stuff floating below a fine layer of froth that lined my miso soup.
a pinch of punctuation, sprinkled a top crisp egg shell sheets, stained with indian ink forming, a careful clutter of clauses and compounds amid conjunctions - for texture.
what will I leave in my wake, when i sleep and i take, each breath as I place, each foot before the other. foot prints in the sands of time, unwind my mind and rewind to a simpler time, reminisce a little. critical. i dunno. i hope my posterity reflect my prosperity n not my worse sides.
Trial and error is why I think the way I do, to be honest. I've made more mistakes in my life than I'd like to remember but I wouldn't go back and change a thing... no, I will stand before the Jury on judgement day and when the gavel falls I pray I am found worthy.
Everything we know to have a beginning, has an end. Life. Books. Rope... Love?
I don't ever claim to be something I'm not, I've never claimed to be perfect. So why is it expected from me, just because of who my father is? Society for you.
Despite all the fuck ups, and the pain I cause you.. despite my consistent short comings, and failure.. your love is unconditional, everlasting, and pure. Despite this, I still fuck up, and cause you pain.
I'm definitely alive, double checked my pulse, and I've become super conscious of every breathe I'm taking.. I'm definitely alive. But what is life, if one doesn't live?
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