sweet tianna biscuit.
Posted by hajipaji
For most people, the noon hour signifies a joyous deliverance from the days jack-hammering vapidity. From the kids in school, to the energetically barren droves of adults in the workforce…even the homeless man down the street cant wait til the sundial on his refrigerator box says “Hey, homeless nigga! Its noon o’clock!“ The sun is out, birds be sangin’ …and you can leave whatever monotonous activity you were previously engaged in to go get some happy food. But not me. Nope. No happy food for Lil Neighborhood P. My lunch break is a perpetual sixty minutes of suck. Easily, it could be the opposite. All I ask is for sweet tea and a biscuit. But all this town offers me is organic tree scrotum and tortilla plates. So, instead of lunch today, I decided to write a poem. Dedicated to my lost lover. Because you truly never know what you got til its gone. This ones for you, Sweet Tianna Biscuit…
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