† SINISTER PUBLICATIONS†

Everyone wants a piece of me,
but I just want to chill —
leave me be, let me breathe,
let my spirit bend to its own will.

Give me a taco,
hell, make it two or three —
sometimes the world’s too damn loud
and I just wanna be me.

So come take a branch
off this stubborn old tree —
roots deep in the chaos,
but my soul still running free.

Even Chat GPT
wants a piece of this,
tryna tell me who I am —
nah homie, I clap back: tic for tac, no miss.

I look in the mirror and see
old memories abandoning me,
life and hell stitched in one scene,
a crooked world, my thoughts obscene.

Shadows whisper like they know my name,
past sins flicker in the window frame.
But I stand here still — unbroken, unseen,
a dangerous vato with a poet’s dream.

Without me there’s no weather,
no storm stitching skies together.
Look up — clouds drifting with no tether,
a wandering mind in dangerous measure.

Filthy thoughts, obsolete,
ghosts dancing in discreet deceit —
yet I rise again on steady feet,
a vato poet the night can’t beat.

Everyone wants something from me,
but I ain’t your fix, I ain’t your feast —
I’m just tryna see beyond the range,
see past the noise, unleash my beast.

Give me space, let me roam,
out past the heat, past the street —
I ain’t a king, I ain’t a clone,
I’m the storm the sky forgot to defeat.

And yeah, I bite sometimes —
but I ain’t violent, I ain’t cruel —
I’ve just burned my own hands before,
felt the fire, learned its rule.

I don’t smash for fun,
’cause I bond too fast —
drunk me wants connection,
sober me remembers the past.

I’ve broken hearts,
said things I’ll never rewrite —
that’s why I stay distant,
why I vanish into the night.

But still I rise, vato loco soul intact —
poet heart, demon laugh,
equal rights and equal lefts,
tic for tac, life’s aftermath.