heart beats

fuck titles

i'll press record.

i'll sit with you

like we're friends (maybe we are)

i'll not put on a persona

i'll just talk, like that.

i'll burp and not worry about nice rhymes

or any rhymes, for that matter. rhymes don't matter. they're only pretty.

like a glittery package

- empty inside because nobody took care to put some VALUE in there. they just wanted to make the package look nice.

but how long can a pretty package keep one interested?

we've been lacking EMOTIONAL beauty. or whatever they might call it. the substance, the Real Value. the nonplastic. the nutrients, the Actual Food.

listen, bro, this is not even a poem. i'm just writing it this way because i don't know why. let's go with it.

or maybe we can finish, exactly here.

nah, here.

or here.

why bind ourselves though? no money-handing boss is telling us what to do.

we don't have to bend to be used. we only bend

to be made feeling GOOD no żeby kurwa zrobiono nam dobrze co nie durny english ale poles-landish wciąż durniejszy dlatego dostał tylko cameo.

*banana dancing*

let's drop the funny street tik tok whatever language

maybe. if we feel like it. no posery.

and let's have an instance of Real communication. like that Real Bread; not some american toast.

everything's so plastic lately. eh?

yeah, i'm tired too. that's why i sit

just like that

with bags under my eyes naked and uncensored

and burp and don't edit it out.

well, that's what i WOULD do. if i was making yt vids. but i value my privacy

plus it's easier this way.

every way is easier than on camera. cameras can be scary. they're robots with artificial eyes...

staring into your soul nonetheless

but it feels empty and cold. heartless.

...ok, let's not go that route. i'm not liking it. it's useless.

no poetry. no metaphors. let's keep it simple. let's keep it real.