I been sick to my stomach
burning underneath yr tantrums
say one glance from yr tongue
can cave a frame like this one
a kiss from yr grace
cakes a mood in thick paste
and triggers muscles
to puppet under it's layers
and shake in it's throes
and wither in its glow
or spring in its wake
guess it depends on the day
//
keep beating at this door
cause it ain't shit else out there for me
it get so lonely, if if only
I could listen when them friendlies told me
"back it on up, let it go, b.
let it go be"
but you don't see
that I'd rather have my hands raw filled with blood
than empty
rather wear myself out than atrophy
rather dust lungs holla'n at yr bricks
than waste a minute of voice
on some shit that can't counter me
say like, if I got it, then I don't want it
that's what I see boring. that's what I see death.
no want movement, if 'ready seent the steps
if there ain't no check, then I feel no bless
scars ay just rites of passage, yes?
Monday, June 1, 2009
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