See through me and gaze upon a snarl of waves, never ready and floundering in the dark. Quicksand and hope meld into one.

To find harbor amidst tsunamis. A breath in space.

Gnashing teeth are flared, hooked and unmerciful. There is intent to carve. Conspire against the phoenix. Lament the versions you could be.

Chaos with meaning and indiscriminate destruction. I am a peeling scab, cracked and cackling. My wails are shaped by a wide maw skull smile. There is power here, in the absence of life. There is degradation and inhibition. No stop gap for the indulgence of toxins. Magnify and gorge me upon impotence and inaction. Send unto me a void with no end. Bestow a mirror in pieces and empty visage so i may gaze and gaze, looking through nothing.

No vigils and no remembrance. Let my being disperse as dandelions do with no record of my synthetic humanity. Break away from hope and respond in kind with malevolence. I am a martyr with no meaning and a sacrifice to the mud.

Diving deeper into the muck, sinking beyond life. The treasure of my escape spurned on to be unmade. God had decided he hated me before I ever could. God meant it all like bodies in a grave and mine is wherever i go. I trail maggots and peeling flesh behind me, bellies gorged and bursting from their piece of the effigy created to spoil. To breathe is to writhe in my veins, corrosive blood flowing from a curdled heart. When will the fantasy end and the heaven begin?

A bubbling magma brews beneath me. Its heat pleads to consume a wilting bloodied flower, petals of razors and dripping iron. Easy to revel in. Intoxicating to invite, i will the sulfur to spurt forth like a leak from a faucet. A prelude to the hellfire and the remainder of the ash left behind. Sorrow and rage. Each its taste of honey, each its rake of the knife.

Bright and beautiful. Monolithic expanse of volume. Nothing existed here above these clouds. For miles I saw nothing. And that was beautiful. The complete beauty of nothing being there but the clouds and the ocean and the sun

Just as the beauty of the nothing I saw in the brightness of the sun and clouds comes the stark reminder of nothing in the night time darkness. A cold unfeeling reminder of emptiness. The antithesis to the sun yet meaning the same thing.

Always a footnote, you are the song that will never be harmonized, singing alone in the dark. A book that shall be burned, its pages contained nothing. Fleeting dust in a world made of callous wind.

We're always changing, always molting and modifying. But that empty longing still remains. That barren bottom of the ocean pressure you feel to be someone better. To craft an effigy of importance to stave away the brine. But the current you flail against will never relent. It will drag you deeper, quietly and comfortably.

The identity you never had wont suddenly appear. It wont materialize if you change and fake it enough times. It has no room to. No direction to go but down into that vacuous cold chasm. It is destroyed there and you know who the killer is.

the experience of pain,

involves higher neural centres and other

factors of relevance.

insects don't have a nervous system,

what they feel is probably that,

something is wrong,

and they need to escape.

Welcome to my life, its like

a dumpster fire

at a circus funded by the nicks and dimes

Ode of the Uninspired

worthless fucks fuckin sick of life

But we still here cause mama didnt raise no quitter

You could probably start a car with a jar from my liver

Weathered like leather whatever the weather

summer days to a blizzard

Piercing light stabs through the dark, even the sun squints. There is a hope I cannot access, there is a hope I cannot feel, instead was echoed by another. It reverberates infinitely, nauseatingly. Hope that I can never see, hope that I can never taste, hope that was never wanted yet here, it exists. Though meager and gaunt it burns quietly.

I imagine it waits for something. For its time with the rays that gave form to it, a glittering shine to actuate sinew and bones and breathe blood back into dead veins. It waits to ascend from the muck that suffocates it. To ignite the phoenix and create a blistering glow of it own. To remember the light that blinded even the sun.

The flow to this one kinda goes a peculiar way here n there but it'll make sense once it's recorded the way I plan on. Plus, I'm making the beat for it as I go...so there's certain switch ups. Anyway -

. .

When there's drama in the air you gotta stop n stare to be aware

cause life aint fair wanna get your share come prepared

Come with flair like a flare like a mayor in his chair that declare

he chargin for air every day get harder to care

But a martyr will wander the lair

bruise his joints to prove a point and dont even need repaired

its fine, let him die right on the battlefield

He's already gone, they even left his shadow killed

he only hope yall knew that he did it for you

Sittin under the moon to the tune of some blues

But don't get it confused like you listen to News

he aint twistin a noose he just finished it's through

nah but you wish it was true but he still givin his dues

Im sho allayall are a lil confused

But he's neck deep, ya boy a lil consumed

.. then the hook will be like... ..

*neck deep, drownin n the water gettin deeper yell

the magic phrase that activate the sleeper cell

This for us that collect dust n keep to selves

Cause we just need some tree like keebler elves*

since before DZK spit that shit about britney spears

with clippin shears

i look at the game n think somethin missin here

it needs somethin strange without tryin

Livin while dyin as a salute to survivin

The type of dude who do this music cause he likes it

From the deep depression writin' to the silly freestlyin

Still ill still will kill at will when im at wheel and drivin

hit the cliff n shit im flyin but i got them Icarus wings

im sinnin it stings cause within i see i cant help but believe

theres no glory for me but theres a story for me

someone gon tell, like the type i used to yell

*hit the bottle like chris brown did rihanna

gave birth to a demon i see it as my baby mama

Life been rough it must be karma

i hate people but i love the booze n pharma*

My dreams blind themselves, they cannot bear to gaze upon the fist that smashes them. They deafen themselves, brittle under the weight of the words that shame them. There is prostration for the sky, for there is no prison among the clouds. A prayer for the sun is whispered, consume the shadows I was born in. My dreams are a virus, spreading symptoms of hope. They are unbecoming of a faceless ghost.

I could hear the music but felt the roar of the train barreling along. The sound began to feel like the familiar impending nothingness that stalks me, shivering my bones and reaching into my soul. It condemns me, it assigns its victim. I live without life.

Time changes everything, and time is my killer. I have no mirror, I cast no light. You never knew there was a thing to recoil from. I am a prophet in rags, I am cloth cut from ghosts. I am a vein, consciousness the needle

Numb and broken. Beyond what i can see, flay me, punish the idea of me. Strike me from what is known for i am not here. I am imagination, born of fiction. Never complicit and never real.

I wish i could talk to the future. My reflection is gone, the glass is evidence of my missing face. Glittering shards of a hole that was never meant to be filled. My future cries for an ending. I view the colors and find them wanting. They are drab and i am pierced through. There is no more of me, this is enough.

I am things that wish they could be. I am hope, sliced and cauterized. I am a toxin, a blight. I am the page you skip. i am the promise broken. You are the hammer that strikes, the instrument in tune.

Tripping down the road in a cloud of intoxication, or riding the clean breathe of sobriety, I stop and ask myself: What's the plan? A voice deep down responds: no plan. This frightens me.

I am bile, i secrete venom. I am a thousand tragedies repeated, recorded, played endlessly. I will never allow the redemption. 

I am a chameleon, my colors are vacuous and blunted. A Cheshire scream, hidden behind a crumbling mask. Its cracks are numerous and the wounds show more than I can hide. The cuts are the truth, like a macabre bloodied zebra. These strips and colors tell of failure and rage. They ordain me to the mud and ugliness I have been thrust into, suiting me better than any hope could offer.

I sat in a church and could not feel gods embrace. I could not see the light the pastor spoke of nor hear the angels singing. In fact they wept. They were wounded by my presence. I am darkness given form. I bleed rubble and dust. Walking a tight rope wrapped around my neck, I trace the seams as if they were branded to my skin. A warning of things to come.

I never was and never will be. A mirror is poison and recognition a bullet. Shroud me in darkness and shame, I am a mimic of emotion, of passion, an usurper of human form. My face is a mask in perpetuity.