Bargaining with The Man again. I haggle like I’m shopping at the flea market on Ashland. My body not meant for designer, just bargain brands and second hand garments. Earthly possessions are like scratches on my overpriced lenses. I never change, this is Jay everyday. My wisdom shrinks by the day and my animalistic urges grow by the minute. Black Excellence a slur to me, a failed expectation of what we were supposed to be. Maybe I’m just naive but this world was never meant for me.

Get the Papers, Get the Papers like Jimmy said. Mid Bag Race, I’m suddenly overcome with fatigue. I thought I was TJ but I’m more like Mo Tibbs, the funny sidekick. Maybe I’m not hot shit, just the off brand on the bottom shelf. I’m he T-shirt at the bottom of the pile at the same place that saved the army, a hidden flex for future generations to respect. The Rocawear tee on Twitch streams.

I’m not Maison Margiela, more like a Gilden with “Pyrex” written on the back. Muddy waters are always troubled, still praying for the Bridge Aretha sang about not Paul Simon. From the era where they described people as “rough around the edges” but my crown is smooth. I wasted my youth worrying now I’m too old to care. As I approach the boomer age, I’m too selfish to share. Too stuck in my ways to focus on SEO, brah I just write.

Find me at Aldis with the off brands or Burlington in a back-to-school sale. Art is dying and I’ll go with it before I fold. Bury me under the place my ten toes stood. Martyrdom before superstardom, there ain’t enough money in the world to change my ways. I’m a bargain brand nigga with Fifth Saks aspirations. Leave me in delusion. Breaking this spell will be the end of me like He Who Shall Not Be Named.

Tonight I’ll say my prayers and I’m the only topic. Give me riches and I will give you my life. The prayers of a fool are still heard. Grace granted to some and others are given what they wished for. I’m still waiting on those Jordans my parents knew I didn’t need, the life I can’t afford. If I’m too patient this world will pass me by and all this dreaming will be for naught. I’m a victim of my own crime, a hostage in my own mind.