for an ugly poet,
I sure played some good basketball tonight.
as the sun was setting,
I scored ten out of fifteen,
and had two steals, six boards.
not bad for a bullshit wordsmith
with a wayward heart
from Orlando
by way
of New York fucking City.
I wish people
knew this side of me.
certain not to unleash my all,
the soul stays dormant
for some things,
keeping them to myself.
sweating in a Fleet Foxes shirt.
no one on this court
is like me.