Dot Blemish




It's an auspicious, "in awe" sentence.

No "aww" gimmicks - just go on, give it.

No dot blemish, spot fixin'; my aura glistens.

There's no God in the mirror, just my mom and pop's image.

You can't miss it.


No grounds make it so bitter.

Uncalming crowds too loud to enter any arena,

My diarrhea makes me sicker - my own shit.

I can't own shit, so I sit with pity groans quick.

   "I quit."

  Why spit?

'Cause I like it.


No filter.

No filler!


I'm quittin'? Forget it...

I'm killin' - not pill poppin', pill splittin'.

Miller over Jordan in an Eastern Conference pivot.

Swish, win it, I'm in it.

Grimace, I'm the new menace.

Venus-Serena tennis.

It's all tentative, be there in a few minutes--

For the true finish.

Do listen, 'cause I move sentences,

And I'm through with givin' in.

You'll rue your ignorance,

While I rule your sentiments.


No filter.


Remember the name whenever the game

Comes in December one day...I'll pivot away.

Swish, 'til the end of the age.

Until then, friend, you can filter your face,

'Cause I'm a pillar always.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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