When I went to sleep last night I had the craziest dream. Bust how I was in Queens, then Harlem then the Bronx running from those "infected" muthafuckas from 28 days/weeks later. And I'm judo chopping, drop kicking and spine breakin these suckas. I eventually got away on sum Bruce Lee shit and I runs into the train station. So I'm on the #2 train and these muthafuckas is in the same car as me. How when I'm running off the train I drops my poetry book and the train conductor closes the door in my face. I'd be damn if i wasnt beating on the side of that car to get back in. Thats a fucked up dream to have if you a writer.
Maybe it means if I live ill I wont be able to write anymore. When I was on my block star bizness I wasn't writing no poetry. I was writing bullshit. No soul. Bling bling poetry shit. lol. Or maybe it was a sign that my wordz is spreading like the flu. lol. only time will tell.
PBS + AOL Present Makers
12 years ago
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