into the roof

Dangling over my head is a white explosions of some unknown substance all it is scrams art and I realize I am slowly living it
As I slowly float above the ground becoming one with the firework explosion above I pass throw it lick a liquid my ever molecule becoming it and it becoming me and now looking down to where I was there is nothing all I am is now in the infinite ,exploding with color white like cloud and I am flying through it
But the clouds turn black and the thunder rolls and the lightning strikes me down and I fall back to earth never to fly agen

me

I spit my rhymes and I am good
I write the word that flow from my head and I am good
Have you ever listened to the word of a child innocent and pure there word are ignorance and there sight is small and I am good
Have you ever herd the word of a drunk slurred but profound knowing more then most people ever will and I am good
Have you ever listened to nature for its rhymes and law and the wind throw the tree is the voice telling me I am here the words are the poet not me I am but a vessel for him
I’m not like you in the artistic way I’m a loser a geek a young republican a signal 19 year old christen I write to see from another prospective and I am good
I am but a jhone doe in my works I mean nothing I come to prove no point I have no name no identity no past no future I am but that moment right there and nothing more and I cease to exist and they say I am good?