THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Split]

i tweeted funny things for you.
wait. i deleted those funny sheets of crude.
fuck it. i'd fiend your ridicule. i'd bleed
the beatings like blissful readings from Beatitudes.
lick it up, every awk touch like finger food
til you stop, blush, and bring me dinner too.
it fucking embitters you. spit on the path
you'd have me socially flit slash fidget through,
filling my glass with some of that winter booze.
sit back and wait for that bitch to visit, dude,
remap every sweet snap
and wish she'd speak back gently in
quicker sweeping intervals,
it doesn't mean jack that she's kissing you, Figure Two:
it just seems. i mean. she probably like...
she doesnt seem that into you