Braille by Solo Monk

Am I convincing you,
or are you convincing yourself?
These quirky financial rules are more than ce la vie,
like final farewell
Like dive down a stairwell, a thrice rung doorbell.
Like taxes withheld while the rich in pastel
live a life that excels with no cap to avail.
Feudalism fed by the spoon. We line up in fours and two’s.
washed by the waves of blue
and the science and compliance of the kubric moon.
Space don’t exist. These philistines believe.
No point in proof when you’re favorite part is the defeat and deceit.
Bias and formulas to prove you exist.
Garages filled with photos, but were you never a kid.
Much less an experiment.
No qualities of exceptional note. Hands too fat to code.
Computer skills used to pack cones.
Lizard zion, sing a static note with the whole.
So bold a fire elf would never dream colors so cold.
Irish luck, appalachian wealth. Computer grey pale.
6’5 with a few ounces on the scale. No connects to tell tales.
Handcuffed reading braille with my teflon tongue
She a real world demon,
but blood of the innocent keeps her looking young

I love her but she don’t love me
Story of my life, never been too lucky
I need a halloween husky, a doll from kentucky
Two am at the temple type buddy
A girl who’ll love me, trust me, fuck me
Leave it all on the table to care for me
I know what I need
I need a brand new fantasy

I’m a piece of shit. Ain’t never been shit.
Never met a girl who couldn’t see it.
Pray for change. Never a chick with bangs.
I know you got problems. I know you know pain.
We all fortunate to make each other miserable
No need to charge your crystals. No need to get spiritual.
Life is a gas. You gotta smoke what you got.
If you hold it too long, you’re just holdin' for the cops.

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