Poetry

Spin a While

Not visiting those chach brokers while the sun is up, shield,

(use it n cruz it bugga)

Met em in the back room with a hitta eye poppin bourbon, pistols out,

Old green wisdom. Spin a while.

Things ha’nt been vivd in so long.

Vivd, purific sin.

Bad jeans, putrid chonies, broken, back, low battery.

Vile liquid sitting on a fattie, one a hot fat sunny day.