fuck

if you can’t fuck then you write poems
aspirate your dreams on the street
with sugar feet, running all that diabetes
into the bitter tar
you go for a sprint so you don’t fuck
shit up, you write a novel on papers
you should have burned
the palimpsest of calls
of responses
that chicago now raps
if you can’t fuck you kill
let off a heavy round, round, a round of roses
of wreaths. grandparents teach kids about wreaths
now fuck, rap does it
shit
if you can’t fuck you shit
it’s still the same expulsion
shit, fuck school when school doesn’t want you
but better a debt than a mcdonalds hat
and if you can’t flip you fuck
or you flip and fuck, have kids like “fuck it”

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