BLUES PART VI

An abuse a report I don’t retort I save my I for you

Sanity or peace – at the crossroads I want a small piece of pie

I’ve got the virus so bad down my pipeline, I talk poetry instead of words, spittin rhymes all the time, lost memory recording rumination rhyming in time chillen. A virus striving to proliferate, probing pounding my mon venus, veins vibrating rhythms of poetry I can’t hold off any longer a vaccination didn’t cure the poetry virus my wounded soul carries.

I can’t fathom who I am, whe