I love to work.

Put your head down, and drink from action.
Change things, and maybe there's a better you at some point on the timeline.
A healthy way to lose yourself.

I want to lose myself in her.
I want to lose myself in the next round.
I want to lose myself in a rolling paper.

But this is my life, and addictions and attachments don't lead to podiums.

There is just so, so much suffering that tints this human experience.

And I just want something good, something that wants me, something authentic.

Something that hates my loneliness as much as I do.

I want it to crawl through my veins, I want it to wear me.

I want it now and forever.

I know it's real and I haven't earned it yet.

The faith courses bloodlines under the skin of longing.

There's only one path.

I love to work.

these rings around this planet keep swelling,

Hold your breath,
This is the part where the pressure in the airlock drops,
And if you don't time it just right...
Your heart might just stop.
It's the vacuum that wants you back,
The crushing groans of the lack,
And the night, and the nothing,
That stretches time between those urgent worlds of fire.
Take the time to mourn for those fresh breaths,
Yearn for full lungs again,
To consume without thinking,
Those moments taste like freedom,
I'm starting to forget them.
The outside is below freezing,
And the panic at the vastness,
Has my focus captive,
Just enough to get through it,
To not need it, to not want it,
To eat the sun like the bodhi trees do.

Another cigarette burns carelessly between two fingers,

She laps against my ankles, an ocean and a taste
Forever is the fear that bends my legs,
and keeps me here.
Why swim when I breathe air,
solid ground is rare enough,
I raise my knees to my chest,
match time with an increasing pulse.
These lush highs keep me dizzy,
busy holding consciousness,
lamenting my conscience,
as it shows up,
a moment too late.
The lesson in her eyes,
that close,
at my expense.
I can't sleep beside you.

Romance is my reason,
it was the whisper that conceived me,
the womb that received me,
the light and the push divine.
And I'm a victim of its circumstance
the pulse pulse pulse
and the gravity urges me,
onward, ever onward.
waves of royal purple,
sparked from the contact,
tongues of fire leap,
from a star always burning.
I want you and I'll swallow it,
as a human wrapped in concrete
the weight of these polite boulevards,
hide the wild riverbeds.
And in my head,
is a grand hall of candles,
a bed of warm white sand,
and a skylight above us.

I am North American.
And you can't test my hustle.
Not with a panel of scientists, a box of number two pencils, undoing a bra strap with three hooks, before the fourth and final exam.
Ambition is the race against the mirror,
and judging by shit smeared deluge of celebrity chatter,
we spend way too much time here. Tweet that.
Over on this side of Greenwich,
We don't have time for tea, baguettes or siestas,
I'm so jacked on my dirty chai lattes
I'm reading the news from Tokyo,
translated real time to my iPhone,
cause those mafuckers are so efficient,
they're already in tomorrow,
and I need to get that news yesterday.
Over here, we casually date the time line.
You know why?
Cause we keep shit fresh.
Any new form of music to hit the radio waves in the last 100 years,
yeah that was us.
And we gonna put it on blast, you know how,
the internet,
yeah that was us too.
We have so many internet jacks, that sometimes late at night, in between the planes flying over head,
if you listen real close, you can hear the sound of the new generation fapping their way through an early puberty.
Digital natives represent. And if you don't know what fapping means, head down to the library, and ask the librarian to open up google for you.
Porn is effective birth control. Rss me.
Times have changed, cause we've changed them.
Long for yesteryear?
So do divorcees, but ain't gonna change the fact, that they're never coming back.
Time to move on, peep the technique:
Canada's national animal is a beaver,
cause we bout building shit out of trees,
we'll block a river to do it, and we'll look fresh as hell in a lush fur coat.
It's cold up here, and if you got time to chill, its cause your not moving fast enough.
America's national animal used to be a bald eagle,
but now it's a giant dick.
You know why?
Fuck you, that's why.
The US is about one thing: manifest destiny.
They believe they're number one, and they don't care what you, the UN, the middle east, history or the Pope have to say about it.
They want it, they take it.
Capitalism 101, hey we made this system where our money is the best, use it.
Hey you're mad cause we change the rules to a system we sold you, shut up.
If you really have a problem look up, those are flying robots with bombs on them.
They're dicks, but they don't keep it a secret.
Lastly we have the Golden Eagle rounding out the amero zoo, down in good ol Mexico.
Mexicans bring you tequila, chocolate, salsa, both the dance and the sauce, and tequila.
Mexican girls are notoriously hard to get with, apparently this is justified by the old wives tale:
"Sexy mexicanas skeet candy and pure aztec gold"
Who knows, mexican cartel leaders that's who.
Are you high on opiates right now, God knows I am, largest producer after Afghanistan. Real talk.
Over here in the western world, we're as civilized as a dry gin martini,
We like our women like we like our media,
fast, biased and seducing us to consume,
I'm going to take over the world,
cause my hustle has been refined by a labour market,
that has fondled my balls since they dropped.
Peace.