My lungs are so tight but I just can’t breathe right and I can’t sit tight and it’s not even just tonight. It’s all nights and it’s not alright it’s all kinds of wrong, right¿I listen to so much really real music I have a permanent bumpin’ headache it makes my heart break. I over consume all everything I choke on it; but never can actually spit it back up, I swallow. I always swallow but I spit out sickness as I wallow. I wallow, I’m mad shallow but so deep you can’t touch my bottom because it does not exist. Only I exist, but in a sick bad way. Only the baddest and rarest and god DAMN I love me ChapStick, it’s sick. I used to get down to that eating chapstick breakdown as a young clown; but I don’t frown! I’m always down. So down. So down. So down I’m already picking out the death coffin. I think of it often. Really way too often. I soften. Into the earth, like dirt. It hurts. but it feels so natural to me, it’s my true state of being. My spit’s are sick.
So sick it’s hospitalized to the point of death it’s wrecked. I’ll make sure you get checked way before you even have a thought to overstep. Coat check. Turn left and get hit hard by the reality of the fact that IS reality. That’s a shitty mentality but it’s just all a fallacy to me. Can’t you see I’m a tree just trying to finally sprout my leaves? Leave me be or I might just cut you in your teeth; make you bleed. I sip it, taste it, drink it, down it now. And I’m not even fucking around; no clownin’ around. I’ll show you my takedown but first I gotta break it down and let you know how. Cause I go now and will never stop; not even when the clock refuses to tock.
I’m nutso super clutso watch out before my guts blow, woah. At this point you should most likely badly probably POSSIBLY know haha hoe. No didn’t really even think so. You should go. See that door to your right!? It’s screaming for you, begging for your touch but clearly that’s too much. You can’t even fathom the madness that boils down to my sadness it’s sickness you wish to witness.. You’re fucked up! That’s shitty. Real shitty. THe nitty gritty. Shitty titties. Shitty gritty bitty babies. I’ll suck your fucking titties but only if you beg me and praise me and scream to the top of Mount Fiji and to the bottom of Rainer. I can’t hear you. I fear. A lot. But not enough. I’m tough. I’m rough. Wow, I’d fuck you up. ROUGH. This ain’t no bluff. I’m real. I spit mad game but only because I can actually feel pain. It eases the pain to feel a part of the gang. Or just a link in the chain; who knows? Not me. I don’t know. I never know! Once I thought I knew but then I fucking flew. And I fell, hard. My wings are now permanently scarred. Real fucking hard. So hard you bet I didn’t even go that far but hey I go hard like a shooting fucking star. I burnt bright once but then I go to the car. Rail a line. On that grind. I fuck with your time if you would just simply show me a good time. LIke limes. In your weak as Corona. I’ll show yah. I told yah. How far can I throw yah?
I’ll wait while you hate. And I’ll wait for me to precipitate wishing you could participate and resonate with this shit I’m spittin; while I’m straight kickin’. With Satan. You suckin’ God’s dick and all up in his twisted prostate real quick watch me spit. Upside down and inside out dude I’ll turn your fucking girl inside out like a used up sock. Wreck the shit break that shit ohhhh, but it’s lit! I love you because I hate you. Wish I could desecrate you. I wish I could actually fucking hate you but I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m not sorry. I love you. This is just all a preset.I was born a defect but I know this much; so much so that I hold it so close. So close that is burns my soul but who even has one of those? Well I suppose someone out in this fucked world gives or gave a fuck about something, someone, anyone, anything? Or at least I god damn fucking hope so. I pray to God that Satan takes me with him because without him, this I would not be spittin’. Satan holds me close, kisses my forehead and tucks me into sweet sleep and holds it down for me as I hold it down for him. I make him coffee and breakfast in the morning while he gives me pain and shows me how real life can be. But also how tortured all his children’s souls are because life exists after death. Nope. Life doesn’t even start until death arrives, I don’t fuck around and tell lies. But Satan. Satan. Satan is so patient. He waits his whole life waiting on my ass to come downstairs. And say his prayer.
Your silly pragmatics are just fucking antics they’re way too dramatic I’m clattered and plastered to the floor like a stupid whore.
And I’m out.