Mr. Emptyman

Take this chance and make it happen. If it doesn’t happen, I won’t make it. * Look at all the smooth-dressed men who pretend all day ‘n fake it.* Their hair is perfect, their wives all shine. Their kids cheat ‘n cut me in line. Sunday’s for church with evening cocktails but weeknights work spent up in beat tails.**

Appearances are everything to Mr. Emptyman false-laid promises ruin ‘is thoughtless-plan. I won’t be or… — pretend like he does — pass the milestones of prestigious accomplishments: Now! *–BIT like candy. Jaws smack Tic Tax break crackt-snappy. Sweets R good, n’ all beats are 2, but nothing’s as golden as the truth.**

I’m trainin’ like a chef,
so I hafta be original,
failure’s eventual in
blazin’ brainy mental trails:
layin’ stone I’m buildin’ bridges
all alone I’m diggin’ ditches
Workin’ hazy crazy days doesn’t pay me I’m afraid…
**
But it’s okay,*
cuz I like my craft conceivin’-in believin’ in the Aftermath.
Record this moment caught in time,
your recollection lives-as-a
mental-echoed-rhyme:*
Hear me clearly teary-eyed no bleary-vision – no surprise – crystallize these free ideas: break the chains ‘n it’ll free us. It’s so hard to disagree, you’ve lost good friends if you’re like me.**

I’m no Emptyman reachin’ for a ride.
Think you wanna be as honest as me?

Then decide.

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