post-it rhymes 5/2008

I’m retarded and psyched-out, I’m sick of it though I don’t know what it’s all about. I hate the games and I hate the war, I hate that I hate and just don’t know anymore. I live and I laugh and I live and I cry. I live to drive, but I don’t know how to fly. I’m rocking the diamonds, but the hearts are awesome too. Clubs suck and the spades just never knew. So someday when I die, do not cry just blaze some, all my loved ones. Right after you bury me with three seeds in my hand, so that someday my bones may become the land and sprout me three marijuana plants. She’ll be so mature she’s sarcastic, she seems so real but she’s actually made of plastic, she’s a butter face but you love the taste and leaves you wanting more, who else but she will be coming back ah-knocking at your door asking, “is it possible to make love and not be in it? Or make love and have no idea what it is? Or is it possible to be in love and not make it? What is love?”
All I can think of are lyrics from a song I once herd, “sometimes, fantasies are all we need.” Well, sugah, that I can be, so run astray reality and play with me just one more game, because temptations grow insane when missing the taste of beer and weed on your breath. I left to remember to forget you, because I’m tired of being excited and I think I’ve always been an afternoon riser. I know its all for pretend, but some how we’re still in communication, I could spell fascination! Do you have a clue what I’m thinking? WTF? My coffee is still too hot. When you heat fruit the rot comes faster, why is that? I hope I haven’t left you too in a state of shock. I’m just too excited and empty inside, with no emotions to hide. Whether you ready to pick-up the receiver or not I’m still on the line, nine times five, are you still alive? Please, give me a sign you want me to reside in the space of that time and place. There are no losers because there is no game. So don’t even choke, because I’m just a joke. Poozlem players are always hated but it’s the game that shouldn’t be tolerated. Created the jaded, uncomplicated. Morality=humanity, does anyone truly care? Hair is a blessing, but critiques keep removing it. I just don’t understand that when pressure is lost, veins grow cold. Hold my nightmares away because I don’t want to grow numb without my momma. Lama hats make my forehead itch. Wish for one more taste of cake. Opaque complexion among a many facial expression. Action taken place but erased with time, climb the skies and dream the day away with me. Guarantee we will not fall but have a fun ride. Don’t deny a high flying P.I.E. with tenacious tendencies to be alive and love every fucking minute of it! Though I have a 0 to my balance, I’m probably the richest bitch you’ll ever know because my soul is pure and my friends and family, genuine. Shits always headed my way and I can’t stop the hating but my life is still as supreme as could ever be. So everyone can step off their fucking pedestals, because it isn’t possible to stomp my parade.