Hartsfield

And you can really think that the praises and the "likes" all matter when the mirrors and the bills come in...

Imma seal up regrets like a swisher floating like the hallelujah choir symphonies & wrongs I'm in...

I've been drifting for a minute; within it. In pools of clairvoyant muddy water, hope my words float upstream while they're playing the Trump card...

I know my America's looking for scapegoats, granny says it's disillusion they're chasing the wrong things...

Captions in the photos like I'm deep and they love me. Likes for validation like they love me. Lonely..

Satire in spiritual lessons. Sitting in the club reciting wisdom like I'm holy..

Stories of depression..

And I can share each one with every reader, I'll DM it if you care to get the message.

Trumpets on road with percussion while I'm writing allegories symbolizing all the spirit in my essence.

And I could write a line for every lesson; the women playing games with my soul and harmonizing with the lies they told...

Wanting more from the fountain in my youth & hanging onto every word before they pulled me in and lied some more...

I could probably write a few about the times I worried most, casting shadows on the Earth as I stumbled and lost hope.

Or maybe how I went and let down Deborah & Carol back before I cared to think and chose to find myself...

I've been messaging with God from the Gmail he gave me... "New Message" in the Gmail he gave me..

"Patience".

Closed the laptop and then the phone rang; Holy spirit FaceTimed but I still don't wanna face her.

Lyrics of sadness...

Flights right before the uber came, still in TSA they took away my baggage.

Too many texts in my phone.. Nobody's singing my song and I'm only bringing baggage.

Solace at night..

There's trumpets blowing melancholy melodies methodic in my youth, but it's only a ringtone..

The flight departure screen by the gate and all the numbers form to letters only telling me to love myself..

& Go.