by Stefon Napier30 Jul 2013
I don't always feel as a poet.
Lines kill me.
So do calloused tongues,wet kittens, burned peanut butter, fashion statements, there's enough space on other park benches so you don't need to sit here faces, stumbling, oily rags, gravity,flicked cigarette butts, rhyming politicians, feisty secretary's, mint flavored toothpaste, pistachios,sin,truth,sunny side up eggs, paperbacks,lukewarm water,words that won't come,lost cause hearts, jury duty, Mindless activism,slow traffic lights and black beans.
Yet these are things that cannot be edited. You can die and they will be there still.