Shiftless, Loquacious.

I can't go to sleep, I can't shut my eyes. They shot The Father at his mom's building seven times. They shot Malcolm in the chest front of his little seeds. Jesse watched, as they shot King on the balcony. Exported Marcus Garvey cause he tried to spark us with the knowledge of ourselves, and our forefathers. Ohh Jacqueline you heard the rifle shots cracklin'. Her husband, head in her hands, you tried to put it back in. America's watchin', blood stained ink blotches. Medgar took one to the skull for intergrating college. What's the science? Somebody? This is trick knowledge. They try to keep us enslaved and still scrape for dollars. Walkin' through Park Hill, drunk as a fuck. Lookin' around like these devils, I'm ready to break this world down. They got me trapped up in a metal gate, just stressed out with hate. And just give me no time to relax, and use my mind to meditate. What should I do? Grab a blunt or a brew? Grab a two-two and run out there and put this fuckin' violence in you? I can't go to sleep, I can't shut 'em son... I...

Seemingly the days are like a spring sun-shower - brief and intense and ultimately without substance. They rain on me and I can't keep the drops from drying up and leaving behind no evidence. The skipping breeze will usher the memories away like children playing in the distance on the beach. I am in a futile mood.

I have good intentions for my work situation and all that daily waffle. I'm on the march. I'm not in the right frame of mind for this all tonight. Must slink into my quiet room and sleep for endless hours. My dreams have your face in them.

What's your favourite number?