10. work in progress

those loud, dark thoughts
have finally quieted down.
it takes a lot to get them
out of me, they spent the
day lingering, as quick as
positive thoughts make my
day, negative thoughts can
break it, and even though
i’ve continued to grow, this
is something i’ll never get
over, even when i’m at my
best, the anxiety won’t go
away, so the only option is
to make the best out of it.

i’m still learning how to,
and while i’m getting a
lot better, this feeling is
what it’s like to always
be a work in progress,
i’m always trying to be
better, do better, and
be more comfortable
with myself, i feel like
i have way too many
questions i’m asking
myself, some that i’m
not sure if i’m able to
ask out loud, but one
day, i’ll find answers.

until then, maybe i’ll
go detox, take some
worry off of me and
let the creative juice
flow back naturally,
had so much stress
about the direction
i’d head in, would it
be worth it? and as
i look back on what
i’ve crafted in this
span of time, i can
tell you that it was.
proud to add a new
chapter to the book,
thanks for being so
patient with all this.

that’s 25 albums down.

hopefully many more to come.

9. i'm scared

i’m scared that i’m
boxing myself in, i’m
scared that i’m writing
myself into a corner, i’m
scared that my work won’t
hit like it used to, i’m scared
that the 25th album won’t be
as special as it should be, i’m
scared that i’m not putting out
enough poems, i’m scared that
i’m losing the work ethic that i
had a year ago, i’m scared the
people who enjoy my poems are
getting tired of my excuses, i’m
scared that i’m losing creativity.

i’m scared that i’m a
senior in college, i’m
scared that i’ll never
see some of my close
friends after we leave,
i’m scared that they’ll
just forget about me,
i’m scared that they
already hate me, i’m
scared they want to
leave me, i’m scared
they never cared for
me to begin with, i’m
scared that i’m only
draining their energy.

i’m scared of being 21,
i’m scared of growing
up, i’m scared of going
out into the real world,
i’m scared my art won’t
be accepted by any of
them, i’m scared i won’t
make enough money to
support my mama and
my future partner, i’m
scared i won’t have a
partner, i’m scared i’ll
grow old all by myself,
i’m scared i’ll end up
homeless, i’m scared
i won’t be strong, i’m
scared i won’t be able
to support myself, i’m
scared i’ll get chewed
up and spit back out.

i’m scared.

8. not bad enough

can’t stop looking back
on the days where i had
poems dropping almost
every day, i’d put out an
album, then jump right to
the next one without any
time off, i would drop two
projects in a week while i
was working on the third,
fourteen whole albums in
a single year and then the
fifteenth was written and
ready to go for 2019, felt
like i had something new
for you guys all the time,
but now it’s taking months
to crack these new ones.

i think it’s because i’m
not doing bad enough.
i write when i’m down
and feel like i need to
say something, but life
these days is going well
enough that i just don’t
feel down quite as often,
so when the anxiety isn’t
affecting me as hard, it’s
easier for me to get stuck,
and that’s when i wonder,
“what do i even write now?”

i can’t ill out again and get
mad, because i’m not angry
enough to do it, and i don’t
have much to flex, either, so
where do i take these poems?
as much as 2018 sucked, at
least it gave me stuff to write
about, things i could get off
my chest, but now i’m in this
creative rut, worried that any
poem i write will just look like
a recycled concept, and that
sooner or later, i’ll break under
the weight of high expectations.

i guess this is the life of an artist.

7. how are you?

these days, the one
question everyone
asks when they see
me is “how are you?”
it’s odd to say this but
i just never know what
to say to that, because
i just don’t know how i’m
feeling, i can’t say “good”
but i can’t say “bad,” and
i can’t tell what that means.
i don’t know if i should feel
concerned, or if it’s just a
part of an ongoing process.

one that entails that i just
become satisfied enough
with life that i can handle
the rigor of it without any
exceptionally good or bad
moments, where every day
just feels like a five out of
ten and nothing really tries
to move the needle in either
direction, i keep to myself
away from all the stress of
society, and find just enough
enjoyment in it to keep going.

i suppose i sometimes
want something a little
bigger than this, maybe
a few 10/10 days would
be nice, but i guess i’ve
just created this routine
where each of my days
are bound to be about
the same, nothing bad
enough to complain of,
but not a lot that’ll be
good enough to write
home about, that’s all
just a part of life’s big
plan for me, i suppose.

so how are you doing?

6. back to you

i shouldn’t be
doing this now.
i keep on telling
myself not to do
it, because i said
i wouldn’t, and it’s
not like you’re ever
going to read this,
but it just keeps on
popping back up in
my head, my mom
keeps on asking if
i’ve seen you lately,
i lie and tell her that
i haven’t, but dammit,
every day i wish i never
said your name to her.

she asks me about you
as if you two have met,
and it hurts that it gets
brought up so much now,
because i wish things had
gone differently, i wish that
cooler heads prevailed and
there wasn’t so much anger.
it’s all been blown up so much
that now it’s affecting others
around us, there’s someone i
struggle to talk to and i say
that i’m fine, but she’s been
seeing how distanced i am.

how did we even get here?
was it something i said or
did? was it something you
said or did? did you just get
tired of dealing with me? eh,
i guess i wouldn’t blame you,
i get tired of dealing with me,
too, and i wish for so much:
i wish i could do better and
be stronger through all this,
i wish i didn’t keep writing
this when i said i wouldn’t,
i wish in some way that we
could fix the mistakes and
be friends, and i wish that
the tension would go away,
but, i mean, life doesn’t give
many happy endings these
days, so i guess this is how
i’m gonna be living for now.

happy belated birthday, by the way.
didn’t forget, just never got to say it.

5. we fucked up

i’m still in shock
that we lost him.
four months later
and, despite what
he believed, i still
haven’t forgotten
him, i still haven’t
stopped watching
his old videos and
wondering just how
exciting it would be
if we still got to see
his smile, his spirit,
his ability to make
a bad day better.

we fucked up hard.

behind that smile
was a man crying
for us to help him,
and yet we spoke
loudest with those
clown memes, too
many took him as
a joke, thinking for
some reason that
he just wanted the
attention when he
really had 800,000
people checking in.

the world took him
away from us, but
we didn’t make the
situation better, just
seems like the jokes
only proved the point,
and even if he couldn’t
help himself, the memes
weren’t much help, either.
now we’re left mourning a
man who left far too soon,
social media couldn’t leave
its toxicity to the side for a
moment, and all we’re left
with is the memories of a
better, much happier time.

we miss you, desmond.

4. winning sucks

it always seems like
everybody wants to
be the best, they just
want to be winners at
something, no matter
what it takes or who
they have to beat to
get there, and sure,
it sounds appealing
to be the best at a
thing you’ve put so
much time into, but
i can tell you, it’s not
nearly as good as you
may be led to believe.

i’ve been a winner,
believe it or not, and
there was a time where
people thought i was the
absolute best at what i did,
and you would think that felt
good to me, or that it made me
want to get better, but in reality,
it wore me down, it made me wish
that i’d never gotten good enough
to be seen as the best, and it only
encouraged me to stop practicing.

the more they told me
that they just wanted
me to lose, the more
times i got flipped off
for winning, and the
more times they got
angry with me when
they didn’t win, the
more i just wanted
to hit the off button.
the more i wanted to
pretend i had no idea
what i was doing, the
more i wanted to just
quit and remove this
from my life entirely.
it got to a point where
i said, “fine, you win,”
and gave up on doing
something that, at one
point, was my escape
from the toxicity of life.

because that toxicity seeped in.

and that’s why winning sucks.