rafters

walking across the asphalt at a Wawa with a Costco sized bottle falling out of my bag

while a hawk from across the lot was squawking, lost all my cards in a wallet I bought at a Marshalls

that cost me a wad of my last bit of dollars, call drops and auto paused bots saying fraud has been logged and they’re locking my card off

and a tall guy crawls out and offers to swap me his watch for a box of cigars and a copy of Saw that I saw in the lobby

and probably dropped while i tossed all my laundry into a cart full of pasta from Aldi

a patch that was cut with a butter knife stuffed in a cup and a bucket of gum from a trucker

duffle of junk, backpack and black gloves and a rusted old lunch thermos, satchel of blunt wraps, a junkyard jack

a nap sack snapped to a battered duff from a Runts pack, plastic cup stuck in the gap

that I covered in duct tape and gum wrappers, functioning just enough to shuffle it through a busted adapter

acting like i didn’t already dismantle your catalog casually and handled the panels you panic in

cracked open factories packed with the shit that you scrapped for capacity, gradually grabbed at me

babbling brashly like half of these passive emcees are actually passing for mastery

bring a battery pack to a battle and flatten em and then collapse everything that they added as padding

channeling Hannibal strappin cadavers to wagons, i ran through the glass with a flask and then

snapped cause i’m practically dragging their traction by hangin their draft sheets from rafters and laughing

the manner i handle mechanics is manic and damage enhancing, i’m passing em, cashing in

flatten a track with immaculate balance, like granite is malleable matter, hammer and shatter with lateral jab

your fanbase abandoning, challengers vanish, back to a battle standard, like NASA rerouted my shit

through a Falcon and blasted it, inflame every flammable page of your playback, i stay snapping faster than cage matches

they play back to back on a plane app, plumbing that bubbled whenever the thunder would rumble

and customers upstairs were stumbling drunk every Sunday by lunch, struck me like a blunt force

a couple of bucks from a cousin in trouble who fronted me double, a crust of a Subway receipt with a number to call if i buckled

hunched in the corner of the room with a fuckton of planks and a bunch of instructions

i crumpled in under a minute, dusty old duffle bags stuffed with a jumble of screws and a blunt little tool

that looked like a punishment rune from a dungeon type room, and one of the legs of the unit kept rubbing against the rubber

mat under the rug, and the trouble just doubled when none of the punch out holes in the lumber

would function like normal mechanical junctions, they shuffled a couple of stickers around to confuse me on purpose

i’m sure of it, plus i discovered the customer helpline is run by a dude who just mumbles while chewing a cruller

and chuckling smugly every time i asked if the drawer should be flush or protruding a number of knuckles

and meanwhile i’m using a butter knife covered in mustard to unscrew a stuck little bracket

that snapped, wonderin how much it would cost to just chuck the whole structure

and summon a removal crew to pull up in a truck and then after that i’d just refund it