disconsolate

there is something missing.

i mean it.

and seriously?

it's a secret ingredient.

like,

a hard-to-find super tip-top secret one, too.

because i don't know what it is,

and i don't even know where it could be.

if i did, i'd be looking for it with all my might.

that's no joke.

these days,

all i do is work,

and somehow,

i've got comparatively little to show for it.

and that's just the thing of it, guys.

comparatively.

i'm putting up quantifiably more effort, to less effect.
i'm activating measurably more participation, to less end product.

i'm over-the-top and out-of-bounds spending more time and energy,
and i'm only clearing marginally better results.

i hate to say it,

but working all the time, and not getting over with those movie checks,
and getting one up on all the slackers?

that's what poor people do.

and that's really very uncool.
it's getting harder to just be dope,
when the just is elusive and expansive and subjective.
just be dope?
it's just as unjust, and it's not that simple, anyway.
so,
how about be old, broke, broken, busted, haggard, ragged, raw,
sore, tired, sorry, worn, forlorn, forgotten, frayed,
and still be dope?
i'll damned if i'm not doing what i do,
despite the discouragements of daily doo-doo buttery disappointment,
and the erosion of time and energy.
i mean,
what else is there?
sure,
i'm getting wiser with each elapsing cycle of day and night,
accruing information and experience in meteoric amounts,
linking events like lace in complicated arcs and angles,
interconnecting all the dots and points of light and dark into a lattice
of overlapping circles of spirit and memory.
somehow,
i stay on track,
even against the onrushing tide of obligation and responsibility;
even when it seems like i'm ebbing instead of flowing;
even when it takes it's toll on my F*ing face,
leaving deep lines dark bags and grey streaks and missing pieces.
i mean it.
even still, even now,
i do what i do.
and you know what it is i do, don'tcha?
yeah,
that's right:

stay ugly, stay dope!
because that's the rules.
i won't stop striving.
i don't think i can.
quitters aren't invited,
and lazy b!tches aren't either.
grind harder, try harder, do more.
that's the mantra nourishing my friday afternoon.
good enough is not enough, neighbors.
because good is good,
and bad is everything else.
stopping short is not far enough.
one,
because too far is the same as too much;
and two,
because too much is the right amount.
now you know the parameters,
so now you also know what is underway.
overdoing it,
until i have more than i can handle,
and twice as much to show for it.
when the exhaustion of expensive time-taking
becomes free time for spending extra money,
then maybe i'll just be dope,
but chances are,
i'll still be ugly.
awwwwww, man.
harder and harder styles make for tougher and tougher breaks.
do more.
that's the key;
never quiet, never soft.....