T.J. Love Drops Off "Menthol"


I've grown to detest the stench of menthol
The fumes rising from my chest and neck
Invoke memories of mentholated cigarettes
And medical final resting places
Where the elderly exist in the exiting throes
Of their numbered days—

I smell very sanitary right now.
Even with my nose knowing no surcease
From perpetual blockage
I have reason to believe that it is 5:01
And I am dead.

I've always hated being ill
Even in complimentary street form
Where brothers on the block would hear
A hot sixteen
And fiend for a beat with my lyrics permeating
The track
They'd rub my words on their gums
Attach their tongue to every single syllable
But once the masquerade of mass-consumed
Hip-hop hit its stop
So too did the belief in me

I have reason to believe that it is now 5:04
And I died.
Head cold
Coughing, sneezing
Nothing showing up on my Pokemon Go radar
Sitting in this lawn chair with no lawn
Pondering the sounds of early morning
And how much I hate crickets—

(Both the insect and the phone company)

Contemplating the quickest distance
Between sleep heaven
And anxiety hell
Wanting to clock out from this cold and
Go grab lunch
Stay way past the designated time punch
Maybe head home
Who needs to be ungainfully employed anyway?

Many thanks to the red underline
Undermining my verbal authority and
Informing me that "ungainfully" isn't actually
A real word
Android apparently doesn't believe in it

And I have reason to believe
That it is now 5:09
And my phone