Hip Hosting

My finger piercing the warmth circumference heated by the atmosphere. My focal point wasn't my focus as I stared at a glare with a victorious aim. Left look, right look and my familiar was uncommon to my frontal. I portrayed gripping my glot casing my target that was really a not. Knots in my sternum as I'm staring down at this pen like, "Have we met"? Observing my surroundings and I wasn't sure where the *F* I was at. My Bones thugged in Harmonies that started playing lyrical tunes that robbed Peter, but forgot to pay Paul. Wall written writings education educated my educators of how I really get down. I'm not the snipe from a distance hide my penmanship and leave you at a wonder. I throw ink on the Ops follow the drip, then walk right up on them and show them what's hosting at the hip.

"For the love of writing"