I just be riding the train.

Broke and black.

Shooting the breeze and watching it bleed out.

Standing at the top of a mountain.

Remembering the rivers flow just to keep me safe. So I cry to keep the feeling so real like…I can hold it in my hands. I palm my face

and taste my seas

and pluck lines like these and hope they comfort me

like ‘they’ come for me.

While I just be…riding the train.

Jumping from car to car like a dedicated prostitute.

I give my all to you, in hopes for some change or some…change. Like those words some trains look the same.

Like me…

hoping to get there as fast as Lord willing with a bunch a niggas.





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s