I’ve been listening to Tha Carter V this week but have meant to do some writing about Lil Wayne for years. [THREAD].

Lil Wayne howls. Your instincts kick in. This voice from the hurt of all of creation gives you a peek. There’s light inside.

If the world is pain then Lil Wayne is a purple, syrupy, cocktail to make it all go down smooth.

If the world is good then Lil Wayne is a reminder that it ain’t always and maybe you should enjoy the moments you can.

Gun talk, drug talk, sex talk, money talk. Too blue.

Lil Wayne, twisted up smile, cracking jokes from the border of the universe. Crying from inside your own heart.

Lil Wayne the bling prince, jester king, dying slow on the throne, long tokes of that sticky waft in curls between us, sinuous.

Life is a gift, each thrilling moment the swoop of a wooden roller coaster, creaky on purpose, bruising your hips, reaching down your throat to snatch out peals of laughter.

We all need love. And waste it. And need back what we lost.

A string of diamonds, teeth, pearls, lyrics, curved like a smile choking back tears. The string pops and they clatter across the marble floor.

Lil Wayne once told an interviewer, “I’m not a poet. I rap.”

A streak of sunlight, blinding, you squint. No, that’s a bullet. Too late.