poem

Ode To Cameraman

how skibidi is your gyatt

when 1+3=2 and my face melts into yours?

40 odd men stroll up on flat-footed leather

they prance and trample on my sigma aura

"your mom sent us, the hood irony cavalry" they sneered

Their positive cantal-tilt eyes pressed mine like a searing iron

is this my thanks?

Baby Gronk rizzed up Livvy Dune

Why can't I pull some hot latinas?

How is it that to my every dying effort they only return disdain?

Unfair can only begin to describe this predicament

Cruel and tough is life on this plane of existence

The world is a cesspool of filth and contortion, crawling with cucks

I am no different however

Hot latinas are repulsed by my looxmaxing

is this my thanks?

Oh, paradise birds, you gawk from above

spreading out each porcelain feather in farce,

what are the hawks to you when all the cards are down?

the golden gates of the afterlife shroud your freedom in beauty

The hawks will tuah but you paradise birds shall be concealed,

edging in your heavens of solitude in the ever after

this is their thanks.

BY, edgar cut allen nanas manis („• ֊ •„)੭