i write in long hand a short term memory hopeless romantic coarse word tendencies right now i don t want to wake up or try to forget when the storm first entered me lately i ve felt self destructive self inflicted self help the cuts with shell shocked hell s bells and trumpets self taught to tell tales in public of this life same shit but different day i write it down same shit in different ways fight it now break fists against the cage until i climb on that slave ship and drift away my blood boils the sun spoils and unloyal so come toil the sun freezes in some seasons its untreated i m done bleeding in a place where i can be and touch all of the things i see to find my peace and i can breathe with nobody looking back at me i ll just take a breath and place my bets but never deal til i face my death with a game of chess like seventh seal i ll still fight the step dads and memories scream zion til deaf dance to melodies deadpanned with setbacks and jealousy until hea ven ex pands the hell in me acquired conscious competence of all of my accomplishments and conquered constant comments that contradicted my confidence common compliments were called upon to con me in accosted consonant comments that condescended all my common sense where i m from no one stays alive you just die by the sword a shogun s frame of mind walk with the rest like its dawn of the dead and drink from the blood that the open veins provide my raps are like a novel with clever style and prose im edgar allan poe the cask of amontillado enter catacombs til clever palindromes and letters that i wrote can capture the god apollo hear the secret stammers time ll tell i rebel they teach me manners with a bible belt schtick psychedelic dreams of banter scenes of candor i embellish like a zombie that eats through tissue until i find a heart with a beat to spit to if its not in the meat i sift through i ll write it acapella on the piece i bit through i m savage and its near the dead of night wait til the sun paints an iridescent sky to head the deadened cries of an old boy given no choice but to fear the present time take the reigns i m sick and tired of the practice of burnin bridges i lit the fire with a matchstick return the image to where i m at cus thinking back i ve been sinking fast and tripping wires where the sands quick across plains with bloody palms and jaw pains hiding from god s grace in fright like its pompeii and always i ll just stay on the lost road while you study crucifixes painted with barcodes and this time i ll just try my luck surrounded by these masks like it s eyes wired shut and i might jump ship or i flip like it s my live bus so i try trust with how it was or how it is when frowns insist sounds of love amount to this too proud to kiss so i sewed my lips shut so love drowned within the open wrist cuts at first its just a ride to live fast until i felt the bruises inside from whiplash a purpose i ll try to get that until i fall from grace and i die on impact and intact was a single broken locket with the ocean on its rustic chain and face that no one wanted i m growing nauseous from a world that never stops when my center s lost hope in the ghost that haunted pentecost i stand in graveyards and dance to take charge of concepts of death that i have to base on even when my bones crack i ll pace on through the epitaphs that my pasts engraved on laugh and stay strong embrace the day till it fades away with this mask i paint on she s probably just a bitch that s casting all the shadows laughing at my battles and following a trend searching for an angel at the bottom of a fifth but my hands stay empty i swallow it again its the loss of leaves that autumn brings that show me these limbs are far from wings i m far from happy you re far from peace i ll fall from grace and you ll fall for me and awkwardly i ll just change my posture till the aches and pains rearrange the monsters2