This is something on doubt. 

Is it doubt or just a lack of understanding?

Do you doubt me or do I doubt myself?

Maybe I doubt myself because you doubt me.

What are you scared of?  I wonder. 
What about me. Free. Makes you tremble, shake in your boots.

Who lied to you? I wonder.
There is no right or wrong yet your thinking makes it so.

Exist. Be. Move.

Flow like water in no particular direction. Or in every direction at once.
Upstream, down the river, underneath the surface in a whirlpool. 
On the lake. 

What difference does the outcome make?

When the only outcome to seek is any outcome at all. 
It’s the doing. The having done that matters. 
Not the applause or the statue or the finish line. 

There is no finish line.

This is an endless journey.
No cover to open the book closed.

Don’t you see that? 

I wonder about your journey.
Your footsteps from Tennessee to Los Angeles
The trail you left behind. 
The leaves you stepped on. 
The dirt those leaves call pillow.

I wonder why as you walk you don’t acknowledge their existence.

If you only look ahead to your destination I gather you’ll never make it there. Because it is living you have been seeking all along.

Don’t you see it?

That you are passing up all your dreams. 
Spoiling the ecstasy and wasting the trip.

Who or what planted the seeds of doubt?

I used to doubt that I’d doubt you now I doubt that I can’t.

Don’t be a slave to the manmade. 
To the idols and their ideals.

Don’t be the leaf I carry until...only until it’s time for bed on the pillows of your path.

Because I doubt I can stay longer without starting to doubt.

The torture it must be to fear change and never go off path.  When only then might I discover what I didn’t know I wanted but have never felt so strong.

Are you sad? I wonder.

Following the herd. 
A one-way ticket to the house on the corner with the car-dog-cat-billy-sally climbing trees. 

How’s that life? I wonder.

I’m on my third, or fourth, I don’t know.

Because I doubt I see the day I don’t stray from the path.

I am the boyfriend with no job. 
No car. No home. 
I am your loser.
Use me up for the street cred you missed on the way. 

Or am I actually your detour?

Did you see me coming? I wonder.

Why aren’t you running? I wonder.

Why am I standing here? There’s no quicksand around me.

I wish the answers were as loud as the Doubt.

Escape Room

Locked in a Box 
Locked me in a Box

Like askin’ if I cock or I box


My passion as profitable as socks
And not the capitalistic, like 1 for 1
Like Toms

Not soothing like…

Pen down, no words

Mm mm good
Hear the hums?

The sound of drums
The Tap
Of thumbs

Of a blank page

Locked in a Box
Locked me in a Box
Like askin’ if I cock fight or if I box

What age am I a threat - mouth grazed
What stage am I the best - hand raised

Ain’t been called on yet.

Locked in a Box
Locked me in a Box
Like askin’ if I’m dog or I’m fox

Tell me No No No
But I got bills bills bills
And they pile up after all the blow

Locked in a Box 
Locked in my own Box
Locked in a…
Damn, not MY box

Glass ceilings with no emergency exits
Doors surrounding me with no handles

Locked inside of a, Damn, NOT my Box

Allowed to mourn for 28 days in February
Allowed to dance for 30 days in June

Then back to my box

I said what I said  what I said  cuz I meant it

It’s been 400 years and we still feel it

We do  what we do  what we do
But you’re flyin it in


We got on Yeezys

You feel me?

NO, do you hear me?

Locked inside a...don’t know what box.

And therein lies the genius 


Apple of my eye
My sweet potato pie
So icy
Check the bags
Beside me, elevate my swag
Wont keep you away
But my batter better
Thicker fatter
You say.
Pinky promise
Pinky swear
Of the day with triple layered
Cake cake cake
White on white like you like
But the accent blackity black
Under homemade lights
We dance the night away
I got the bottles on ice, something sweet to match your taste
Watchem, check and protest
Let em check, and protest
But I’m here, you’re here
Pray that we stay

Mad House

The whole truth is

I am meant for you.

The more I object

The more apparent it becomes.

It’s like simple math

With ancient unyielding rules.

One plus one will always equal two.

I see no rhyme or reason that doesn’t include you.

My Muse of love 

In happiness and in Grief.

How many lives (will it take) do you think?

Past? Future?

The present is a gift They say

But a cruel one it seems.

As you evade me

Oiled up when I grasp

And a SHARP slip between my fingers.

Does it not sting?

Do I not linger?

The thought of your mind racing for another does mine

A Fun House of damage.

I’m stuck inside

I see your reflection

Not mine.

Skipping endlessly from mirror to mirror.

As I spin and spin

With a smile so wide

And a dream catcher in my right.

As I turn and I turn.

You dance circles around my thoughts

And skip to your own, trip to your own.

Beat. Me to the.

Punch. Me in the.

Guts. You have.

I’m tired. No, weary.

My smile fades and I think I see the light.  

I might. See more clearly.

This is No Fun House.

You’re not the mouse. But the Cat.

And I am trapped. Mad.

Mad, I am.

About you.