For all my lighters, writers, and all-nighters..dedicated to this flow, and the currents that fight us

If it wasn't for those fire wouldn't ignite us, but I still go hard in spite of.

For yall this is a night of Poetry.

For the molten unspoken mind, awake this earthquake with the faults in my lines

Experience the thought as it chills through your spine,

Find the heat of where the passionate meet intertwined

It's time for Poetry

Addin adlibs for the advits and havin automatics for the sporatics..

And If these PAPERless picture painted on a HARD place cant make the cut,

then I'll take my chances with the Scissors to prevent from tearin up

Glances at rear visions places fear in us..that we'll keep lookin

Or even worse..that we won't, thats as deep as the last couple breaths that I took in

How do I begin..to give you Poetry

If the creator stopped on every writer's block to wait to be inspired

Then a pause after every thought would be all that was required…

I would rather be nameless than aimless..

What is in a force, with no direction..a disaster with more remorse than discression

So to remain sane I must maintain the current course as I regret one

I will never be done..with Poetry

Even when im as cold as the snow and soaked wit dry rain.

It is my place to stand and face every rhymic bang, of the methaphoric gun behind my verbal exchange

As I purge the untamed..It will forever surge thru my veins..not even these words explain..

My name is Poetry.