Starseed

I don't know how to be anything other than honest
I have lived in Nashville four years now come this summer
Which means I have not spoken to my brother in almost six
Time sure does fly while rearranging kitchen drawers to make new spoons fit

I Venmo'd my dealer last week for some weed to help finish this poem
How many licks to the center of a hypocrite
All the same, I have been dropping masterpiece after masterpiece
I put out three over the course of one year

When California asks, I tell her I've been stitching together poems so big
They could be thrown over entire countries to keep them warm
And I could give a fuck about a trend
I want to be the word so universally healing

That generation after generation will keep running back to them
Because ever since I was a child
I had always felt like there was somewhere I needed to be
So when I'm feeling burnt out in an industry that is anything but gentle

I think back to my youth
Libraries as lunchrooms
I throw my soul to her fountain and wash, rinse, repeat
And I've been told some of you are wondering, and yes

I just keep on getting better at resuscitating memories with words that run like water
twenty years inside the books, now I shall never be alone again
By noon I'm ruling Rome, I built my own up from the ashes

They mistake me for the apple without knowing I'm the seed
As in which any earth I'm planted, fruit is harvested around me

And it's funny the way they will treat you once they realize your mind is worth money

Sand dollars are found out past the break of every wave, but that is also where the sharks are
Cracking under pressure, too much liquor, forgetting all my words at slam

I promise you this, I will never again allow that shit to happen
But after all, I'm only human, only flesh and blood imperfection

And you're bound to hit some turbulence when a bad bitch is about to shatter through a glass ceiling
Keep your eyes on the credits of the rock charts, your girls' name is about to be all over them

That's why I never tell them what I'm doing till it's done
And the only name you'll ever catch me dropping is my own

They say imitation is flattery, but I say it's thievery
And sympathy is bitter depending on which pair of fangs you taste it from

If you sip on my stars, I will swallow the sun
You are limited only to what I have already done

Some see me as competition, but I see them as all my children
Because as writers, we must hold our immortality with the greatest reverence

The holy crack in the spines of our books, forever embedded in their memory
Just like Stephen said, approaching every pen in any way but lightly

So your cadence may be mildly entertaining, but what are you actually saying
That's the thing about the quiet of a page. you can't hide from it

Strip away the smoke and mirrors of performance, let us see the quality of your sentences
So mark my words, my children and my children's children
Will never again know the weight of this brokenness

It ends with me here, so let us be this

A love letter etched into an old notebook
Tucked away on a bookcase

A collection of soul rearranged, inked into words
In hope that someone may read them
Find healing in the shape on a page

Memories found in palms I will never trace
Once I finally lay at the feet of rest

We will soon be an echo, so
Let this page be proof that I have lived

And I have loved, so good