After the habit’s broken Next bunch of years are spent considering a relapse like the past was fast approaching The past is just as dead as a Tupac hologram A flickering image intermittently vivid It’s some shit that you won’t admit to the misses The memory is exquisite The life as you lived it left much to be desired Whatever it took to keep the fire burning However dimly Life and limb de-valued Every friendly smile used to get some more kindling It’s a dead end, not an ending Can’t see the black hole until you see the light that’s bending There’s some type of tension Character development preventing you from writing the ending All judgment suspended Doing fine, one day at a time Just keep placing one foot in front of the other, there’s no map And despite what you might think there’s no going back That’s just a hologram projection in your mind I want a hologram of Shock G doing the Humpty Dance And one of Biz Markie doing Just a Friend (or Pickin' Boogers) And one of my nine year old self, eyes wide open, mind blown with all the gears spinning Taking the necessary first steps to learn to hear different I want connection through a land line and a dial up modem Anticipation growing as the page is loading I want a hologram of my grandfather making Quaker instant oatmeal for breakfast I want to feel invincible and reckless I want to rest secure in the knowledge that as time is passing I am unaffected I don’t think I really want any of these holograms

Comfortable life but I’ve got my share of problems too If you didn’t understand that, it was probably not for you Lune TNS was not for me and yet I listened It made a difference even sitting outside the tradition Created a place of worship from a home stereo system Jay-Z opened up for KRS we had the tickets Built a bridge to a small island off in the distance Couldn’t tell if it was real or just a vivid image But then looked around and found that I was in it Inside and outside really no different Contacted the culture through a dial-up modem Posted terrible raps just as fast as I wrote ‘em The shit was amazing I’d watch rap city and sit in the basement The art form demanded participation I filled up notebooks and blessed be the lord for the rap message boards that helped sharpening the sword Badly recorded a demo tape and out I sent it The response was objectively correct yet unexpected I was told that it was garbage and rejected Printed the email out and for years I kept it But It was daily practice, do it both forward and backwards KRS told us we’d attract it, the crowd reacted in the only way possible And twenty five years later I still feel it in every molecule I took the information and the energy home and kept learning My favorite graffiti artist is Daim, he’s German Chorus: It was amazing I used to watch rap city and sit in the basement The art form demanded participation (x2) I wished I could make it, but how? I never saw that Then Stainless got the drum machine and 4-track It felt like an epiphany the old tan Alesis connect Through the headphone jack then play back on cassette Aw shit, we became Promethean More light than heat as the search for the perfect beat began But it’s been running ever since It’s a marathon and not a sprint I run it to the very last mile and no getting lazy No Rosy Ruiz more like Meb Keflezighi Mostly friends and family couldn’t understand the shit But the art form demanded it