true, there is no morning
besides a beautiful thang.
and I will eat you
like a streetlight.
to guide your path
each upper west side.
you're mine,
nevermind.
I saw the jet,
and I was a LIAR,
something to rely on.
no body comes to the show.
and I will travel to Philly
just to be a bride's maid.
Puerto Rico
will have my March
according to Ruben.
eat my feet
and call me a mother fucker
within this poem.