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Started 1/30/15 9:00 P.M. – Free Verse Last One For Awhile (Pt. VII Of FreeVerse Series) [Releasing Every Fucking Thing]
Coming back to reality, my head’s at maximum capacity, containing ever growing fallacies
My brain cells have experienced many causalities, and if I had to give an analogy
For my mental calamity, without registering any detailed anatomies
I’d list World War I as a banality, and naturally it’s deteriorating substantially
So I gather up my insanity and other catastrophes, write them down casually with perfect functionality
Release my personality and other formalities, leaving everything on the pad in the form of spirituality
As I go over its totality, making sure it’s not a generality, and I'm satisfied with its vitality
I record the words in audacity, upload them to Sound Cloud embedding them with immortality, sit back and watch, while no one listens to my lyrical cavalry
Why do I even bother even making these rhapsodies? Creating them with pain staking agony
Putting out material so rapidly, waiting for feedback anxiously, while people pass on it handily
So I create the next one angrily, hoping for one like randomly, but end up untouched like furniture under a canopy
Left to drift as an abnormality, in a sea of neutrality, as it gets chalked up as the internet’s next tragedy
Never seeing any light like an opacity, existing as an apathy, as my blood, sweat, and tears, were disregarded passably
But fuck it, I digress, I’ll give this a transgress, working strictly off of my lyrical pamphlet
My pen’s in check, ready to write what’s next, preparing like Bill Belicheck, strap in for the best free verse yet
Going over scenarios with Charlie Manson’s angels, our relationship has its ups and downs like Ross and Rachel’s
A mirage covered in phantom fables, they hold me prisoner as a ransom staple
Don’t underestimate a person whose serotonin’s unstable, I start putting morphine into their bottles with the melatonin labels
Got them hooked as they inject the contents from the rancid ladle, never figuring out that my tantrum is fatal
Seduced them with my handsome sable, shot my cannon’s maple, as I start to choke them with telephone cables
My head’s impenetrable like a naval base, with repugnant facial traits, ever since I first gave coke a nasal taste
I killed Cain and slashed Abel’s face, my mental is a fatal case, summoned to eternity in this painful place
Soon to be gone without a trace, I just simply function at a higher pace
I’m the Armageddon weapon legend sweating venom bedding vexing’s
Lesson, never threaten felons, leave you deaden resin deafen, heading towards heaven’s check in begging for a penance present
One more second? Nah, I don’t do second elections peasant
I’m the Raiders of the eighty’s, richer than a golden era Kuwaiti, feared like the United States’ Navy
I’m Ronnie Lott playing free safety, 2007 Tom Brady, and flowing like Euphrates
You tell me that your free verses have been sick lately, yeah, ok, maybe
I’ve been sick, sick beyond greatly, popping pills and doing forty shots of vodka daily
Waking up in the morning puking toxins until I pop blood vessels and my face is pasty
Grab a coffee and start pouring in obscene amounts of Baileys, really fucking sick, spewing more than a pregnant lady
Every day was fucking rainy, I’m sick and I’m fucking crazy, three hours without a drink and my vision starts to become hazy
As I start to eject vomit and my whole body becomes shaky, sick to the point where I’m staring into the eyes of Hades
As my head starts to burst hearing the cries of dying babies, looking to escape this sick in any form of hasty
I’m going to be pushing daisies, living a life beyond flaky, so you’re going to have to excuse me, if sick really doesn’t faze me
Hip-hop, I can never take a vacation from this, every single day I’m writing in my pad, making pages flip
Sitting alone, ready to release all the caged in scripts, I sit back and watch as my pen starts letting creation drip
So
