unplug. debug. no hug. just a tug. at the hem of his garment. on the red carpet. fancy but real. no sex appeal. no smiling faces. in all the places. you go. with all the people you barely know. wanting to be close. but at a distance praying for a discerning spirit cuz people be doing the most. ain’t real at all. just waiting to watch you fall. but you don’t blame it on them at all. it was the ones before them who did it in order to look tall. the nature of this cage. the nature of this age. shit passes by so fast that you miss the moment. but all they say is to live in the moment. i’m so confused. my sense of what’s certain is becoming abused. and in this i become nostalgic. homesick. take me back there. that place where love was real and i didn’t have to be “on”. i could turn “off”. no make up. but i’m still fine. still just gorgeous. and plain as day i get the same amount of attention that the best whore gets. cuz in this land it’s a competition. and as loud as you scream sometimes no one listens. and that quick you’re over it. sober quick. waiting on someone to see how great you are. tired of proving to yourself that you’re a star. in the sky. next to the moon. that we are all looking at. waiting to get to that next destination. trying to stay on. playing a new song. praying you can keep performing when you don’t feel like it. you can fight the “laziness” even if you don’t feel like it. cuz truth is…there’s no sloth in you. sometimes a bitch just wants to unplug. and debug. not giving out no hugs. i’m just tryna touch the hem of his garment….