Journal

On Me…

I am THAT man. The man you could not conjure even if you sat on a slab of stone and pondered for a century. My essence was meant to be. Fate decreed there should be a nigga like me to live a life like this one.

My existence is remarkable. I hark back to the Ancient Greeks. I think I’m secretly Greek. In addition I speak, with a voice so deep it’ll make your tame girlfriend queef. It is gigantic leaps I’m bound to, cousin. You stuffing your face at a place you deem worthy. I don’t even get hungry, just thirsty. And I drink from the spout of poetics and rancor.

Your anger can never be greater than mine. So outrage is a page from a book not your own. I’m sitting in such a way, that my heels are my throne.

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