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Please enjoy your visit.
 T.J. LOVE  
    4253 Poems Read.

Free Style!

won't someone please take the initiative

to free style

because she is choking

choking on the algorithms

the rhytmic timebomb ticking away her breaths

her breast in cardiac arrest from mathematical impedence

we didn't try to overcalculate her

but simply

simplified her into a whole number

when she was perfectly fine and dandy

complex...

please free style

because style is drowning

bound by a world that doesn't celebrate originality

but rather shows versatility in verses

murked with senility

in futility

i tried returning to being me

but being seen for what i am

is a waning dream

weaning from the teet

releasing the teeth's grip

from the milkless breast society has run dry...

i've tried to free style

but alas, she is fickle

tickling fancies of the man she created

only to be replaced and remediated

suffocated by polyurethane

monounsaturated

fats

oils

and sweet tooth that i can't seem to satisfy

so we have to die to live

and i if i had a sense to make sense

this dollar in my pocket

wouldn't go to ashy hands to procure a dimebag

but rather a new steno pad to have my lines down pat

so little boy blue wouldn't have to pat down mine

skipping scantily-clad scat

through deaf ears

walking on sunshine

when there's nothing but death here...

oh, won't you free style

because my inspiration has worn thin

and i am leviathin

trying to prove my torn skin has color to it

and i'm not some watered-down

daughter of a pawn

born to be mild...

meanwhile

remaining in chains is an unfree style

because nowadays

thou must pay

because style

is not free...

indiiduality comes at an expensive price

nothing short of yourself will do

but will you do

what it takes to free her

be her

change your tone after one beer?

a stranger told you to change your career...

would you?

how much of you is left after that happens?

a better question is

how much of you was actually there to rightfully spare an answer?

while you sit there

sipping your hair

snipping your despair

sniffing your cares

and huffing away at what's left of your dread,

the cause is too late...

style is dead.


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