humble thyself .

there has to be more to life than tattoos, weed, babies, & g-shocks . right ?
my eyes are glued shut and i can only see the inside of my eyelids .
but who tattoo'd the inside with my next urban outfitters purchase ?
who hung those posters of marc jacob handbags in my mind ?
the hype .
its real and breathes and never sleeps .
it has taught us to embrace these obsessions rather than keep them in moderation .

let's see: "obsession (n): Compulsive preoccupation with a fixed idea or emotion, often accompanied by symptoms of anxiety. "

we spiritually deal with fits in the night to have the hype . to be the new "it" . we mentally scratch our veins at the thought of being that girl in the music videos with the hair, dress, & celebrity .
as 'middle school' as it sounds, it applies at every level . we repress our conscious recognition of it . like we're too old to believe what we see on TV . on the contrary, the older we get...the more susceptible we become to these unrealistic extremes of what's important in life .

all i want for myself is to invest as much time into my soul & mind as i do my image & social life . what you feed your soul is what it will produce . what lame ass nigguh really wants to have a soul devoured by things that are out of style by the fall ? hmm .

lice .

he wants to do the best by me . i wanna let him . but everything he says is worth half a penny to me . its bland, its tense, its like an arranged marriage . he still has man shoes to grow into . size 10 to be approximate . i only gave half of me buht it seemed to be enough to reel him into my disillusionment. i wanna appologize, but he's not even man enough to understand . poor thing, chewed his shit up with hot sauce & spit it out .

hmm, he's been around for years . he fed me the best of bullshit . i stayed in the kitchen while he baked it . i couldnt smell it . i guess enough sugar-coating can hide any wretched smell . ill admit i made some mistakes, but when crunch time came, he crunched me & chose her . i wanted to keep things safe, but as much as i tried to fasten my lifevest, he poked holes which caused me to drown in a puddle of drama . now things cant be the same .

whats the price for happiness? is the ex doo mama drama worth the feeling that this one gives ? he makes me smile like happiest memory. if i could fly us away to some foreign land & start a new ... life would be exceedingly amazing . nevertheless, we are held captive by community stigma, hating & doubt . girls raiding my caralibro trying to find evidentiary evidence to prosecute a man who has done nothing wrong in any capacity. im the helpless spouse crying in the courtroom .

whats a girl to do ?