"Leaving Las Vegas" I really want to sing - rapping and poetry don't let me scream - my voice is constricted, anchored at the bottom, I want to vocalize my social cries, anecdotal vibe for vibes only life - I really want to wake up. I Literally Day Dream. I mean ... I actually Dream entire Days of my desires being delivered to my morning doorstep - the dream night before slept queen and I. If Reality is Real Estate then i will sell it off as segmented bits and pieces of it's former self --- no style of poetry now, my form of self wants to wear headwraps for men. I said that, but then... I really want to ... Drive my acura 3.2TL and not worry about trying to find a rhyme for "Acura 3.2 TL" but I need points to prevail when sales are low the biggest blow drives the ship home ---- he said our music was "average beats, nothing anyone hasn't already done before". I really want to push the envelope off the ****in table but my tongue is attached to it - paper cut attacked by it - constantly rising price of postage stamped to it. I really want to wake up. I really want to end this poem and find my self singing - find my self singing, find my singing in the tree where Poh Uh be. Hardly can convince myself to write poems now, my heart knows my hands are lying -- the cold reality of keyboards leaves more space for mis-interpretatiion. Cuz I haven't woken up yet, I don't trust my fuss yet - I just bet on the moment, and hope the house loses.