lutes.

i don't spit fire

i compress and i spit carbon atoms

not the fallen prophet

i'm the pilfer-fruit-from-gardens adam

when i was born my mom and dad got silver lutes and harps thrown at 'em

from the hands of zeus

it's hard to fathom

i write all my bars in latin

i see mars and saturn in the arches of my metacarpals

papa told me mama taught the moon to glow and stars to sparkle

and artistry herself was startled when she carved me out of marble

i don't put a price on life

i sharpie markered on the bar code

i had a dream where i came face to face with aphrodite

in a closet full of sneakers

half adidas

half were nike

wrap my psyche up in styrofoam

my words in struggle raps

and double-back them in a couple flaps of verbal bubble wrap

my culture taught me i should be afraid of strangers

and be afraid of changes

and be afraid of danger

and i don't want a cup of coffee in the comfort of my cubicle

that's why i make decisions where i always choose the stupid one

i must admit it's super fun

and i know where my future's going

i mapped the whole thing out at 10 and just now called an uber for it

and finally it's moving