No one knows.

no one knows me quite like you do
no one can piss me off quite like you can
understand my flaws, step on them
and pick me apart just to stop my starts
quite like you can.
No one could tease and lead me on
for as long as you could
no one else sees me rotten
and then feels so good
quite like you could, but
no one broke your heart
quite like i did.

face value.

honestly honesty is barely worth our thoughts
not when the reality isn't what we bought into
dream keeps a kid in place without going insane
the scheme for a better life boils in her brain
knowing once it's in play nothing will be the same
so she lets another day slide, another breath in
before the beginning of the ride. before she turns the tide
-1. 2-
honestly honesty is barely worth the thought
lie to the truth we accidently bought into
whisper sweet nothings into it's ear
that you'll never leave and always be near
while you secretly plot and scheme
quietly leaving work early to work on your dream
hearing friends tell you the same old thing
but it's all good in the hood.
wink and smile and, still look good?
damn straight.

inside whores.... minds

Every week our boy gets a lay

different girl but always at hers

so he never feels obliged to stay

shouldn't hug nor kiss nor say

he'll see her again but he does

it's not a lie at the time, but in time

that promise fades, dies and becomes reborn

birthed from his own lips, cradled in another's eyes

... ("maybe he's not like the other guys"

and he's not but he's got to go)

waiting for the phone to ring and when it does

annoyed that it isn't him, he'd hate that-

if the roles where reversed

so maybe that's why he does it to them first

get running before it ends in hurt.

and before he begins to regret what he's said

he's- too busty chatting up a girl he's just met

bicycles and spaceships

she gives promises of change on a regular basis
a sample, a loop, always the same old soul song
the beat goes on credits due she raps with conviction
the weight in her chest reminds her it's all be said before
but refuses to hop on any ride whether it bike or spaceship
rather walk alone, she can only trust her own feet
too often she's taken too far in the passenger seat
she lives near the sea, it's not where she wants to be
but it'll do for now,a place where she can figure things out
she can learn how the tide turns, by watching the tide turn
we've all been burned but it varies by the degree
because it's rarely what you see, but how you see it
where some see fun she sees time wasted
so drinks till she's wasted because it's hard to face it
and whenever she sobers up she promises change
on a regular basis i smile, she'll grow up in her own time
she wins academy awards in her own mind
at the parties she should be, with those dancing in celebration
not as a masquerade of talent with a front of pretension
no confusion between loving yourself and creative masturbation
honestly, you don't copy the academy, you learn from them
she'll do fine in time, just don't promise change.
Stay the same.

Red

I make the best of what i have
if i had your back,
i could make things better.
Plied with red wine,
it's outlined on your lips.
I wanted to try hard,
but on a night like this
where every conversation
has become awkward-
stepping up small-talk
as the las call looms
Your dress
is the only thing that fits.
I'm on the brink of friendships
and I'm ruining it for this
this red hard pressed to forget
on her lips on my neck in the back
of the bar it's usually three dates
to connect we've only just met
a party of mutual friends
I've known for months
judge.
We'll say we regret this
when they tell us
And we'll talk about how drunk
and stupid it was
the next day.
But right now,
that's hours away.

What i remember, from memory.

Clear lense, squished from car tyre snow,

Grey hat.

Red coat, lumberjack black squares

collar popped.

mid shot(. Angle.) Small face, big eyes

wearing the smirk that births the

smile that shows the,

teeth that look that,

brings me to my knees
but if it is snowing you
wouldn't notice.

Not in this moment, walking forward,

eye contact with a lense. Blue scarf

scaffolding to the left, where untouched

whiteness rests. thick eyebrows, brown eyes:

Wolflike. Eye contact with a smile.

brown eyes, big enough to engulf

turn, you think you know the street

All we really know is she's fashionable, has

a thin frame padded for the cold with cool clothes

walking along a well travelled, worked-on road,

is taking a moment to turn while trudging through snow

and is in love with whoever is taking her photo.

brooklyn's september.

in a world where every player is a boss
and all marriages end in divorce
and you don't really have drive
unless you drive a porsche
of course
it's easy to feel when you stand out
you come up short
so many fights i've fought
so many times i've lost
too proud to ask when it'll stop
too foolish to know what
I'm even giving my all for.
The love of a woman
The respect from a crowd
The acceptance of nay-sayers
my hands are often clasped together
in the hope i'll think of a decent prayer
one day i'll strive to be something better
because all i want is
the acceptance from nay-sayers
the respect of a bunch of clappers
The legs of Jasmine Kara
It's been a year and i still love her
from across new york,
they'd save up money to see her
by day lap-dancer at night soul singer
never a day she didn't have her shit together
small in height, but filled out just right
her beauty came from her love for life
she had nyc tattooed on her neck
we watched friends on her laptop
snuggled together on her single bed
never have i had so much respect for a person i had just met
she sung to let out the pain, it was never about fame
it's been a year now and i don't see things the same
i see every player trying to be a boss
but they never know what to be a boss of,
soul singers singing porcelain songs, hollow with no gospel
i see people dying to drive a porsche with nowhere to drive to
i stop relationships before they start because i've been so tainted
from the knowledge that they all seem to run the same course
it's a world where no one does what they do for love
it's a reality game show for who's the biggest pretender
and every artist wants to shout on how they're "not"
how they're "real" but still secretly hoping their reality
will actually take them to the top.
it's enough to make a talented artist want to stop.

thank god I'm not going to.
these thoughts will be sold
babyface eyes with an old soul
in a search to grow so i'll no longer come up feeling short
one day i'll make enough money to say "next stop, new york."