Ondrej David

Spitting spit and rhymes the white dredged man walks through the cabin’s crowd. Each tone is mistaken from the author’s intent. The uninvited audience would have booed the man were it a paid event. Price aside the passion was clear, the talent and neither the hard work was

The frequency unvisited, unpronounced by my name unphased. Simply by the latter he came raze filtered and tame. Towards my meeting of delegated smothering he reached for the meaningful tome. Spikes sharp within letter trembled him to bone. Small vivid alone he became our bane.

Inordained by the air thick heavy moist in the subway seeping into my brain through the tips and roots of my hair twitch in my wrist to create.

Struggle and worry of a woman on a bring of shedding tears sitting on the stoop with her head slipping in her moist palms. As she calms no one notices her slight head bunt, a bruise on her left thigh. Did she fall, was she attacked? No one asks. An

Triptychal understanding of my journey misses, cries, and pushes out what’s on my feeble mind. Licked by a muse that usually visits cars and dogs I’ve had no luck in doing what I wished for when young. Foolish endeavor captured in black-and-white stillness kept me up through the

She, he, they whatever they are today puffed straight into my face. I didn’t care for it to say the least but then again what came after was worth the worry. I flew out of my body in the air up up up I went smiling wide. I knew