i don't even like make up
such hypocrisy, when my lenses are tinted
& i'm squinting, at you when you wake up
i'm bitten, by that bug again
the one where, i fall in love again
when you say, come here; come again
i'm like nah
either i'm all in, or my high subsides
here's my mind, on full display
HGTV, DIY... i'll explain while i’m high
while i fly
while my mind's, extended upon, upper echelons
unless you're armed, with wit
like the ill shit, written on my arm
a beautiful mind's mine
to be still’s, how i’ve become fulfilled
i'm gustavo dudamel
my jungle's where
Mozart chills, in the Bronx
Brooklyn more… meaning exclusively
& right before, you’re use to me
my pen’s my baton
usually, composing symphony’s, the shape of my palm
on a lake, musically, turning you, like figure 8’s, into a swan
in the morning, we’re naked, preening on my rooster wings
acoustically, like glue sticks, we're in sync
here i heal, never spilling, what spills, when you’re weak & you weep
refilling your drink, after your other drink, then another drink
after our glasses clink… mazel tov, then smash’em, like oligarchs; more like molotovs
unsuppressing passion’s kinks & instincts
i'm smearing the mascara you’re wearing
with your head hitting the mirror, hips in the sink
fuckin' up how you think
upper echelons
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