Care Less by Bryan Espiritu (written June 2007)
The smoke and the mirrors keeps the life line coasting,
Choke from ear to ear a smile like hope goes floating,
Broke, but still a beer will keep the gross flow owing,
We’ve lost it.. vanity is value, pain profits.
Stained like paint against the grain will make it rougher,
Over life, like legs over shoulders raids lovers,
More than like, saying “like” – girly speech stutters,
A leach is still a sucker when it’s alone, motherfucker.
Toking is a treat that clouds the thoughts of bitch brothers,
Lucky we don’t rowdy up his family with shovels,
Two fists and two hits deliver pain in doubles,
Go and call your police officer uncle – say, “uncle”.
Tired like the crossing of the T tripped wires,
Hammered and my nails cant awake me – pinch pliers,
Granted feeling gravy’s just as safe as slick tires,
Chestnuts getting roasted, hot stove – we open fire.
Most of those who pose about the truth are straight pansy,
Hands in the air – grab a garter belt, family,
Married to the misery, my mother kept her hands clean,
The man of the house had to man me, scram.
Crack another, have a brother stumble on his verses,
Perched upon a pew, she’s ’bout to lose two purses,
Certainly the firefighter crew is feeling worthless,
Hosed down the hot and had the jerk see his work missed.
Written while I’m sitting in the dark with the carpet,
Switching from the misses to the bitches, hit targets,
Livings just a luxury of learning life loves me,
A drug can make an ugly light lovely, park it.
Broke is just a state and being broken is a shards worth,
Artfully we dodge words but author like an archer,
Personally she’s precious but her thirsty friends have parched her,
The end will be a bargain basement blockbuster barter.
Money is a menace, making messes when it misses,
Broke mother tucking in her toddler gives kisses,
Old and rich motherfucker don’t know where his kids is,
They spending they allowance to purchase ‘ghetto’ fits, bitches.
A lady with the stomach of the hungered holds rice bowl,
Two nights, but whose life has kept you so mindful?
You’re bruised right? Do right, take directions where the signs go,
Lose sight… I’d bet you’d participate in food fights.
Whose bites gnaw on a clenched jaw, chew right,
Moods like yelling at your shadows by the moonlight,
Grew light patience and the waves crash my blues right,
You might have maybe held onto love too tight.
Talk is a sigh on the side a little louder,
Toes in the snow or the sand pierce powder,
Grow like the voice of my heart holds power,
The maze is how we made it til now..
- Bryan 'be.' Espiritu