Hopeful, San Mateo
There’re different types of laws. Not all of them are physical. Mental laws can be broken. One’s mind is capable of achieving impossible feats. Physicals laws are not something I want to write about. It kills someone who deserves to die. Prison shouldn’t be within arm’s reach since the founding fathers made sure cracks can be manipulated. This issue does not excite me. I would change everything. I’ll let kids run around with plasma rifles if it was possible. Just change all the laws I ain’t really got a favorite.
Redwood City is where I’m from. It’s dry honestly. It’s mixed Mexicans and White people. There’re always those people with mansions a couple streets away but it’s not really interesting. Every citizen is pretty unique.
This kid was bangin’ his head on a wall as hard as he could when I walked into the classroom. I’m not supposed to judge ‘cause I’m worse. My fists are really bruised, just like the rest of my body. Being beaten by poles then waking up to your momma is pretty normal for me. I don’t trip though. I transcend.
Typical freedom at large, you can do whatever if you have legs to walk with. When I was just a child I played this game called soul. My brother and I played let’s say the personalities that make your city.
Pride is mental. Push away your thoughts and all you have is you. You will never know who you are because everything’s being processed like a memory card. Does the memory card know how it was made without a program to run it? We’re the same in every aspect. Pride is given to me by me. I could take it away but that takes any memory. You see how it works, take away one feeling and the others will replace it.
My city is special ‘cause I felt so much pain there. I can’t describe how it feels. I feel dead inside, stuck a long time inside this head of mine worrying ‘bout your pleasures. A place for me to stay introverted in my thoughts. I can’t stay out the way. Please forgive me for my sins. My city be popping. That’s why I dig it over, though it can be dry. All cities be popping. You just have to acquire the sauce. You ain’t born with it, but you can earn the sauce.
“You have to learn to leave the table when love is no longer being served.”
This is tough. Damn. Don’t hate. I don’t really know what’s good with quotes but someone’s getting’ hurt in this. I feel like if you being dropped just deal with it. I mean what can the table represent, you feel me, the amount of love maybe. I don’t know ‘cause I wouldn’t try to decipher the rest. This quote makes me feel faded in a way I can’t describe. I like how this quote be whippin’ it up. I’ll read this while sippin’ my double cup. Witnesses are dangerous. You have to eliminate them while you can. First of all, why even go to the table if you know the love is going to run out you know.
I like buffets. All you can eat, no stressin’, stay as long as you want. You can even get ice cream. You know how many people haven’t eaten ice cream. When I get ice cream I add milk, go crasy. I ain’t really like being served, specially by mean waiters. You tryna get some spit in your food ninja. Love is no longer being served, but isn’t the customer always right. You could pay for it, that’s what pimps do. But I don’t know, you have to check it out yourself.
When I write about this quote my arms get heavy. I start sweating. I look around at this grey table with other papers. My mouth starts salivating. My hearing increases. My conscience ignites in a strange way. I don’t stand in one place with this quote. I be all over my city. Hopefully you can relate to this.