nocturnal to the very best, im in search for a catalyst to resuscitate my hearts constant state of lack of this and a lack of that. i try to be coercive whithin these verses which is leaving my back turned and shirtless. it is worthless to assume an impending doom siting here in this vacant room? the walls are whitewashed and so am i, my culture encased within the boundaries of monetary and fiscal policies, left out to dry under this heatlamp that turns food stale and consumers pale, frail, leaving a trail of excrements. i have all these sentiments as leftovers from that rediculous crossover. and i say rediculous because it was just that. who the fuck knows how many rows of pharisees i have to appease and please in order to just have peace of mind, a piece of that pie. my furrows cause a crease in thy brow that spell out concern. though all in all i have learned what its like to toss and turn. to fall and burn and to be reborn again a pheonix, eyes ablaze a bird of prey in front of a backdrop of grey. as above so below i follow in the footsteps of the sun. i proudly display this crown of thorns, scars and remnants of myself as broken shards do be swept up and tossed, not hidden under the carpet.
i follow no doctrine
no ideal, no pretentious thrills for me thanks
i am perfectly fine to climbatize with my own mind
reference points are always dope though, because in truth they do help you cope
but. do not be fooled by the surface and its glam. its maya maaaaaaan!!!
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