scribble jism

my chest is heaving weakly, probably from all the smoking ive done in the past few days. ive sucked down a few packs too fast and now each breath is a trial. my body feels like its being squeezed and every inhale is a burden. when i stretch my arms up and yawn it feels a little better. like an early morning in the middle of the night.

im thinking back to the rapper that won the MC battle at scribble jam this weekend. he was young and australian and he called himself Justice. his freestyles were more clever than the rest, so he took home the ten thousand dollar prize. he was really good, that i will not argue, but when his final opponent said the only time i fuck up is when your girlfriends on top i thought he should have won the contest.

and im thinking of how it began to thunderstorm for a couple hours and how everyone pulled their tables back under their booths and then went and stood out under the warm rain.

and im thinking of how the three cats from Chicago that were hustling their hip hop cd's in the booth next to me were mad cool. how they were nice and professional but starving at the same time. how they deserved every dollar they earned and how they watched my booth when i had to bounce to get more beer or take a piss. how they insisted everyone listen to their cd before they bought it. how they wore the tshirts to their own album and repped Black Reign to the fullest.

and im worrying about my health and im worrying about my spine and im worrying about my weight and im worrying about my job. im worrying about my vanity and im worrying about my relationship and im worrying about school and my student loan. im worrying about my fading youth and my lack of spirituality and im worrying about my future and whether or not its coming too fast or not at all.

and im thinking of how empty my house is and how it would feel living alone in new york.