Sorry for the late post...been driving through New York through Pennsylvania and then back through New York. But technically, the rule we set for ourselves is that we have to post it before we go to sleep that day. And since I haven't slept since yesterday morning, it's still all good.





GOOD MOURNING

and there are times when you just gotta sit back
kick your shoes off, recline and take one to the dome at how life can get you sometimes



and there'd be times when you'd just wake up
still lit to the lids in that purp you got from darrius
how that ooeyeooy smoke swirled from your pursed lips
eyes pink and swollen
had you seeing fireworks in your sleep as you drifted off to that sweet abyss of the early a.m.
but then you get lifted out,
like your fantasies took a different route
like something pulled you away
reached out from that timeless dreamworld
but fact is, it's 4 in the morning
you done drooled a puddle on your homie's couch cushion,
and you're padding your pockets with a sudden urgency to bounce
just trying to be anywhere but where you're at
now not to get too...existential
but i find that whole circumstance to be a pretty good metaphor for life sometimes if i do say so myself
take these oakland nights
sometimes so inebriated off the bright lights round lakeshore
you just wanna forget
that just 3 blocks down, someone just got murked for those fake bapes they got at the coliseum swap meet
couldn't have cost more than $30 and now someone's mama's got a world of grief to expend
but tears don't shine like pattened leather do, i guess
and oakland ain't just a one-dimensional dream
but oakland can be like one of them bad dreams
sometimes, force you to take a look at yourself and what you really represent
i guess that's why they call them nightmares
cuz that's what they are,
mirrors
reflections of every fear you front on
i mean, that's why we get our blunts sparked before sleep anyway, right?
just trying to get away
trying to c-section ourselves out this grassmaze
can't run very far when you're sleep from your foot to your face though
shit might get kinda tingly
but still you run
every night
trying to find that
good morneeing
looking to feel born again


maybe it was memories you thought you'd forgotten
maybe hidden way back to the ends of your scalp
but regardless, they visit in your sleep
trace over every insecurity you buried away, they found you
can't run very far when you're sleep from your foot to your face, shit might get kinda tingly
i guess that's why they call them nightmares
cuz that's what they are,
mirrors
reflections of every fear you front on
cuz during the day you get your blunt sparked,
sit back on that couch and think about how every step got you here
how every turn you took was a c-section cut in this grassmaze we just all trying to get out of
i mean, that's why we get our blunts sparked, right?
just trying to get away
because somedays, it's like the whole city's huffing hot steam on your neck
just trying to redirect traffic tacticfully without too many



but knowing we'd never get by without each other
maybe we'd still visit in dreams
maybe i never even knew you except in my sleep
maybe none of this is more than a fabrication
of someone's stoned slumber


and there are days when you just get so tired
when it seems like the whole city's huffing hot steam on your neck
like frozen dinner people,
we manufactured like instant meals
fresh in the freezer cats don't want to defrost
so caught up in icegrills
they coldblooded, baby.

everyone likes to talk about the grind
but what happens once you're grounded?
cooling back on your couch, a bowl of purp packed in that glass paperweight