Now, I’m lost, Jacques Berman Webster II, most definitely lost
I see the needle sway and they tell me I’m all I got. This is my name, so, this is who I must be, I should listen. This is just an intro to myself, that much is clear. And if I can go get away from myself, I might find something worth bringing back home, but my problem is that my mind is moving at max speed. The air is moving slower the faster my feet move. My Air Max 270s keep me grounded to this hypothetical floor. I’m hovering at the layer between what’s real and what I made up, which are the same being that much I know. And I should be lost on purpose, intention, made it across the universe like perfect, made you wish rehearsed it because it really does look so perfect. My imagination is a burden that has me lost and uncertain, but what nourishes me is Houston. What’s the difference between being lost and escaping? An attention. What’s the difference between a ladder and an elevator? Labor. Feel free to feel lost, it’s free, there’s no cost. The cacti fell over on the path, that’s how I noticed I can fly. The truth is, your always home. I create a city with no buildings or people, just deep breaths and daydreams, nightmares and ancestors’ energies fly and memory. I can get away, I can make it, whether it’s outdated and I’m Jaded, or I become the air and I made it. It maxed out our system like I twisted the mission and made the decision to be free or like other people who can’t see it, they call it, they say I’m lost now. When I laugh my breath mixes with clouds and causes a storm, because I’m not lost, I escaped. Keep your feet where you stand, everything else has escaped