Don'tsmothermenow

Hey I just want to write!

Can't you see that? I yell at the impostor. I yell at the world. I yell at the poster. I yell at myself. I yell in my room. I yell on the train. I yell in the line at the supermarket with a cart full of watermelon. I yell in my mind.

The world can't hear me.

But it's not strange if I don't speak up. It's not strange they don't hear my music if I don't put it up on Spotify, Strange Music TM.

Or like Dax take it to YouTube. It's dax.

I don't know if I'm ready but I don't think I'll ever know either, though at least I have a job that lets me hone my creative skillsets while I do other things. I mean literally. I mean literal skillsets. I mean.

No I'm pretty nice tbh.

And that's another thing that bugs me. Acronyms. In LOWERCASE.

I just want to let it all out here. I want to let y'all know. I want to be like Nietz sometimes and just let all flow. I know I live a protective life in a projective world, but I vent, even if I can't extend my arm to the slimy underbelly I know through my penthome door. Just want to vent some more. Give me air. Need to breath. Psychological asthma. Haaaaaa. Nhhhhh. Phhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Phhhhhones.

They should leave the wires.

Coppers.

Stop getting musicians off the street.

Music.

Is what we need to live.

Notes.

Don't take them.

Freestyle.

...

It all goes so much better when I write it like this. Like it's meant to be: written. Like spoken word... just ain't my thing. I'll relapse to this like that ellipses.

Bang.

And if I record I can keep the beat.