Shoes with no laces, black paper jumpsuit, and no underwear. 
You might be asking yourself, 
“What in the fuck?”
Yeah, me too, buddy. 

You ever met a pimp wearing his Sunday best? 
What the fuck is up with that? 
Maybe the pimps picked up on the clergy who been grooming us from a young age 
so, traffickers resort to that costume set. 
Pimp heavy in that parking lot.

Oh, you’re still reading? 
Fine, I’m referring to the day I got rolled out. 
The day I won the lotto. 
Still not following?
The day I got released out of jail. 
First and only time ever, 
few months on the outs, 
they halved my half—call that shit inmate math. 

You ever met a pimp on a bicycle?
What the fuck is up with that?
Copious amounts of them,
Just cycling around like it’s the thing to do. 
Again you’re probably like, “What the fuck?”
Same, bro. 
Yeah, this one is in reference to that
Month I was wandering the streets
Due to mental health crises—
Hence my landing page referencing
Lost marbles. 
Jesus fuck, I gotta spell out everything for ya, huh?
Come on! 
Keep up with this quantum leaping traumatic dysfunction. 

You ever share a mattress made of cardboard?
Learned which parking spaces 
Turn to mattress frames?
You ever held after-hour 
towne hall meetings 
With society’s rejects
Beneath business stair cases?
You ever declined countless pookies offered your way?
The addicts struggling to process 
Organic insanity in the wild
Before them.

The only heirlooms passed down in my family is trauma. 
Minimal resources lead to maximum resourcefulness, though. 
Gotta learn to be thankful for the little things. 
I also came to understand that just because One does not have much, it does NOT mean they have nothing to offer. 

Reached this point in my life where I want more for myself versus more from myself. 
Should you choose to stick around, maybe we’ll see how that looks. My story ain’t nowhere near done yet. 

Crazy what happens when you get off your clown shit and get promoted to ringleader. 
I take joy in being a traveling circus.