.
.
.
No excuse. So old and illogical
to the point I follow trends in this hollow pen.
Bottling my deepest regret.
I'm seeking the net in lieu of psychology,
my apologies if you haven't got a piece of me, yet.
More over, I have a following of sorts...
.. that sponsor, so obviously I don't need Nike's to keep me in check.
Bounce, I don't need your respect, but
oh how, I practically beg for it on the road down...
But I'm still moving, never slowed down.
Passenger seat, windows rolled down.
Minus zero, freaking cold out. But I still won't freeze, no doubt.
I've been exercising my rights longer than cardio sessions
For every bar there's message carved that becomes a part of its essence
Methodically speaking? Charlotte's web.
Code blue, like Marge's head.
Emphatic in nature after each bar's read.
And this is far from poetic, but...
I don't see even a parallel universe of me letting up. I'll keep taking until I get enough.
Word to the editor. Apex predator,
I'm saying, I level the... playing field; what my name's instilled
in this game's hall of fame, f'real.
Hot as fuck, I've been staying chill. All of that praying, will
only boil my blood. I was there, when they told me to come.
Every moment, I was atoned, but I've done
a lot in my life that were out of my control to show the world where I'm from.
A perfect embodiment of melodic script.
Cognitive in nature, paper's astonishing with archaic acknowledgment
of old-waves, concave.
Celestial being like a rising phoenix, building an empire on underlying genius.
Nah, as I'm battling demons
Skeletons in my closet seem like practical features
to match intermittent pain and guilt for never attaining
a higher power, I try and tower over
the ultra-defying shower of admiration... but shine, such
a vibrant flower assimilating like The Morning Show, after they fired Lauer.
Outside of reality, but inside is fouler.
Hyper-reality, flip through fiction, like...
The shutter speed, discovering the inner portrait, because of me.
Air permeates life, but still it doesn't breathe...
The double-edged sword is tongue-and cheek...
But part like the Red seas, running deep... metronomes
play in my head, like stepping stones.
Whenever an Eminem record's on. Yeah.
Now ask me, if they actually can relate
to suburban idealism, or rather they hate?
I adopted all of their personality traits
If you looked outside of your skewed perception, you'd realize it was how I was raised...
So, what happened to Monday?
A tunnel, no telling... what's on the other side
You gotta go where you're heading. Self reflection
through several perspectives, guess it's...
being far from comfortable, and knowing what's over your
horizons...
Even if where you go is upsetting...
A celluloid of lowering ethics, our moral codes
so deplorable, we're informed to forget it...
But even behind those green shrubs, lies
an in-between fuzz of consciousness that seems to intervene us.