Here I lay in my bed,
Fed the sound beating clean on my drums,
Fingers… Nails… thumbs scrolling through playlist number 1
Blocking white noise as it pops
These buds in my drums,
Like bunnies as they dance with Rapper’s Delight as it Hip Hops
The heart’s unbearable pounds
My fans shouting it’s ill, raw, and sick
I scratch the next track… nails becoming sore
And records bleeding my music.
One Turntable on the right,
Horizontal to the left,
MC ing from my breast.
Micing I’m the greatest the very best.

But as my mp3 is streaming,
Listening to Nelly’s Dreaming,
My ipod is on hold
As pretending is a daily part of my life
And it’s singing…
Is frankly growing old.