something something something

under these letters
is a pure empty
but my stain has something to say
so it had to change the pure
to this mess
that is trying to possess your attention
and the tension has it stressed
I must confess, I'm no good at writing
I'm just blessed to be holding this pen
while my Brother, my Father, my Keeper
sends me on this quest to progress through this text
til I reach some sort of end
that blends with the emptiness
you won't notice
until I stop covering it up with
my best attempt at answering these questions
but I can't say I'm too invested in this hunt for a treasure chest
I'm too lost in my many attempts at snatching your attraction
like I'm bat shit crazed on the action of grabbing some traction
and running through the movements of this slew of truth spent
making pews out of park benches
and breaking the fences
that keep church in a room
got to let it spread out pollinate and bloom
rather than bring gloom
to your Sunday morning
I swear
loving Jesus doesn't have to be boring

kniht

I just want a girl that can be herself
so that I can be myself
usually I feel locked inside this cell
in the middle of a zoo
and my sign reads:
This is Sam
He still thinks he is another visitor

WARNING:
Don't give him any pennies, his thoughts won't end at two cents
all he does is dream
but he gets hit with these 5 cent word insults
so he gives away his dreams and is stuck thinking
and he still doesn't know when to go to sleep
and he still doesn't know what to be
and I still don't know how to stop repeating myself
and I still don't know why you expect me to repeat myself
cuz I still can't find the difference
I've already said this shit, I just found a new pattern
I've already been this shit and it is still the same matter
I've already seen this shit, it just found a new arrangement
I've already heard this shit, it just found a new language
and I still don't know how to sleep alone
and I still don't know where the fuck I'm goin'
but at least I know that I don't
and I still can't get you to come back
so I keep throwin my pennies
some may think my thoughts are too loud
but I've grown proud of my words
and I don't know of anyone else I want to see under my shroud
so until you come back around
I'm gonna stick my head underground and think about the clouds

Knotjoe cheese

Mike doesn't listen to music when he plays basketball
the courts supply his beats
the hearty thump of each dribble
the pit pit squittle of the sneakers
   wanting nothing more than to stick to the floor
but the truth is, Mike wanted to eat this week
so those headphones, they got left on the shelf
"just gonna have to listen to myself"
the truth is
Mike only smiles at you when you pass by to reduce the friction
he only laughs at your jokes
so that you won't start questioning him
"why don't you fit in? Didn't you pay attention to your folks?"
see, Mike only knows fiction, this real shit is just another perspective
more misinterpreted directions
Mike is lost, and he knows it
but he never shows it
not even to those that think they are closest
still miles away from seein his walk in freezer where his heart stays frozen
this is not the path Mike had chosen
but all we can do is predict the rain
we can't stop the hurricanes
we can only alleviate the pain
we can't take it away

Mike has stuffed enough numb down his throat
that it stuck
now his tongue is tied to this anchor
that keeps him from finding his sandy shore
a lost buoy drifting through the blues
a lost boy barely lifting up his shoes
he drags his feet, for they are heavy
he barely breaths, but at least its steady
so when you see Mike looking empty
just nod your head and keep walking
cuz none of this will get fixed with your talking