Note: This is TKandMit's entry for the 2015 ERB Wiki Poetry Slam. Enjoy.

Fuck it.

I’m fed up, I sweat it so I set off

Cramp in my neck like I slept wrong, felt like my head’s been swept off

And my friend’s been dead for twelve months, wait til he sees what I let off

My universe is minuscule, I figured it’s so pitiful since I seem so fit-able

I’m in the middle though, of millions of shitty figures that’ll piss off you --

I’m kidding you. I’m like a little kid when he swims in a pool

Trying to have fun, but that’s done, in a second he’ll be descending to

The bottom where he’s dead, then ascending up to Heaven too

But he’s upset, too, he’s fucking fueled by the fire

So when he opens his mouth, it’s like a lit up Bic lighter

And you can call him Agent Orange, but they’re paging doctors for him

He’s just laying it on chorus, but he’s amazing: full of ignorance

His throat is sore, it’s hoarse, here’s a lozenge, but it’s scorching

Like a torch is when it’s lighting up a forest for your s’mores

But wait, there’s more, there’s over a ton of thousand ways to say it

So when I say it, I pray it, I made it for this very day to claim it

So it laid in statements until the day that I’m laid in state, Mit.

The thing is, I’m afraid to make it. I know that I’m composed of Layman’s

And that I have what it takes to make a beat, record a verse and play it

But I hate it, scrap it, revise it and re-tape it, completely recreate it

So it ain’t the same thing at all like I first made it, that’s just blatant

I can’t tell when my shit’s good or my shit sucks, so I flip tables and kick rocks

I feel like I’m mixed up in a world dressed in hip hop and this rock

And I don’t know if I’m even a musician, ‘cause “who’s listening to this cock?”

My position’s like there’s opposition if there’s options to sift through with this luck

It’s not optimal or in my prime of rhymes, so I want to switch up to a pick up

So maybe someday I can get up, figure that I’m the greatest to ever do it

And if anyone ever says that that’s not truth, they can just move it

Cause frankly, I’ve been boo’d, I’ve been removed from doing a tune

But I moved on, and when I came back, the boos turned to awe

And I stood strong, moved mountains while they threw arms

Got a bit hot-headed when I rocked it, but now it’s lukewarm

What I’m trying to say is, I guess I’m not ready to confront the earth

But full of “Fuck the world” that any moment I can upchuck the verse

That makes my studio take me for seriously, hear me out near curiously

Or fear this me, record my album and take me to the rest of the peers to see

For years to be, I’m seeing this so clearly, but now I’m seeing red

Because this won’t happen for awhile, so all I be is fed… up.

Fuckin’ A.