Thursday, June 11, 2021
Summa runna cumma, it’s twenty-won.
Gotta short fuse, watch what I get done.
Gimme all my money—I ain’t short on funds.
But my writing block’s over—that shit was fun.
Speaking and I’ll repeat, I am his son.
Twenty-won the sun shines for my runs.
Modern day hustlin, my money ain’t fussin.
With incomplete words, I should buy full verbs.
But nope. I publish dope.
Creatively struggled against these ropes.
Writing a beast who overcame being broke.
Money issues choking at my got-damned throat.
Went forth anyhow—my body’s a boat.
Floating through life to give up?
Competition should hope…
I don’t mope. I just go.
Unlike me long ago,
Writing for broke.
Grab a coat.
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