Point

Days wasted on focusing on what shouldn’t have been focused on Waiting on that inner light to turn on so I can keep the dome lights on Because I am so afraid of the dark in which the demons assemble I carry a cross a crucifix a symbol But also resembles a “t” Trust, tranquility, totality, and tailored Custom fitted to rebel against custom fitted stigmas Greed revolves around a historic enigma My keyboard maximized my volume Fingers on keys create prophetic poetry Fingers on these keys creates hungry zombies Who are hooked on lines as long as space bars Speak light but think precise light AR’s I am a quasar vomiting knowledge defecating light Some are impoverished within their own doctrine This is penicillin to an infectious soul I know women who endured the pain and wore real red bottoms As the blood dripped red from their soles That struggle burns deep and dark like coal Things untold that the mind foretold Ignoring the obvious is like drinking soup that was made from poison toads