Awaiting all amassments,
When poetry rewards the dead,
Cant keep from this endless cycling,
Of these thoughts inside my head.
I see the monsters with me now,
I pull them daily from the closet,
I guess you’ve slayed your demons once and for all,
As the rest was left to progress,
I just never protect my (artistic) process,
I just can’t trust prophets or most animate objects,
Rest assured I’ll profit off insanity, vanity, in this candyland...
Breathe:
A slave upon a wheel with spokes of gold between my hands,
Another hamster in a maze, just need some cheese to feed my kin,
Ill take a bucket and buck twenty six and hour to feel devoured
And hate myself for hours for a taste of power.
Pitiful, pathetic, pedants, pushing pappy’s and paupers to peril,
The path to permanence is practically impervious and pretty outta touch
Just some rubble in the rough with a few bucks and crutch tryna worka clutch
In the dark with no lights at night....
...That’s just a metaphor for a man tryna make sense of the mystery of his own mind, own shine known time rythematic schematics are drastic passionate basking on the water like a basilisk asking quick can I hear ya latest works, notta jerk, just a man with a pen and a grin and a pinner-joint, spinning winners over bass notes pretty moist.....pretty moist....oooooouuuuuuuuuu!
But why again is the sky crying tears Of pain,
I feel the weight of every acid rain-drop,
pain-locks my senses in paralysis, calluses upon my mind.
Ya see cream hung love with a rope of diamonds, now lucy’s in the sky frizzle fry with primus, finally finding myself behind these eyelids, clothes are oldschool but my rhymes are stylish!
Think what you want but no man is an island (DAD!), independence don’t exist in America, its just a myth like death, time, and money...... sheeeeit……#Factozzz
