Breathe Fire

Say what's up?
Where's my cut of life?
Should I cut all ties, start fresh,
That's far-fetched.
I've got the guts to fight.
I've done sit-ups, my bust is tight,
Next step is car lifts.
I'll haul my weight in street junk,
Living till my knees flunk, or my back breaks,
I have aches, all those days I feel stumped,
Sitting like a tree trunk in front of my PC slumped,
Eating After Eight hearing Mather's hateful beats pump.

And all I ever wanted was a puma.
How did I become a humorless Doomer, a consumer of broomers,
Trying to clean up my mess but it's hard when my boombox,
Rocks the block harder than the New Rock.

And all I wanted was meaning.
Did I lose the stream of hope gleaming after that last screening?
Haunted by demons so much I chose to be become one, where's the fun Hun,
I've been sitting here like I've been bolted by a stun gun.

I bolted. Sick of it all, revolted,
I somersaulted through the floor, crashed the door - better bolt it.
Ran out fast cause I felt bogged, it's better than jogging!
Till I lost my breath and felt my lungs coughing toxic, swapping out oxygen,
Fast like the hacks of a locksmith like I couldn't pull off it.

Hold up.

Wait.
Let me catch my breath.
Let me have this stretch.

Three years later I'm still catching stress.
Breathe fire.