TISSUE
by K. B. Johnson © Spring, 2017
(Insprired by actual events)

Fears projected,
Delusions deflected
Rationales that make a game
To redefine my name.

Blow your trains.
Fly even your planes,
But dare not my phone ring.
You'll be found with just one ping.

And excuse my French,
But fuck the shit you stressin'.
Especially how recruited females be dressin'.
In my right mind I call'em bitches.
Only character and a soul satisfy my itches.

Spy as you will,
But your lies are what kill—
You, me, my neighborhood, our community.
I'm really amazed how you act with impunity.
And by some ordained authority?
(GTFOH.)

Invade my home to make me crazy?
Nah, dude, you must be hazy,
Attacking me in the name of my son,
To justify your fun.

Frontin' box and chain stores
To sell me tainted oil and rice
Cause snakes wanna see me go
Away while pretending to be nice.

Is it in any wonder I play the race card,
For those not accepting your mental issues is hard.

Keep your delusion and fears.
It's just not my issue.
So I blow you off like snot to tissue.


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