Gentlemen. Those who know me, know that every now and then I get real. As best I can. Lately, nothing expresses my reality as well as the poetry I write. These spaces are the first places I’ve begun to let it out. Like it or not, here it is. *Wanna Be Guy* I wanna be the guy that outlived his past i wanna be the guy whose trama didnt last I want to be a man Who learned to be kind i want to be a soul that left the gristle behind But I’m here in the kitchen and I drink and I pace And I live in the past and watch my mind race It races with thoughts of dirt that I’ve done But I no longer think That it’s cool that I won My thoughts take me there But I step out and I see That instead of despair I chose to be me. But my past is a pit where I stand on the edge i have to admit its a thrill on the ledge There’s some thrill at that height that brings me back down as those who relate End up in the ground And though I survived i feel hopeless a bit because im stuck inbetween that ledge and the pit. I’m stuck there perceiving a life I let go And I keep on deceiving all the people I know. The deeds that I’m keeping that are too hard to see im keeping the ugly even from me. I want to be the man who can hold all this shit but all I understand is that I forgot how to quit. I endured real carnage and then laughed at my fate Now im left with a vantage That few can relate. So I pace and I drink and I write these things down I pace and I drink And I let myself drown. Jcr 05/26