The hardest part of being an empath is the 25 extra lbs of empathy I carry around in my mid section. It's starting to effect my golf swing. It's dead set on shanking my life out of bounds, making me rethink my approach, I have found, I'm gonna hit this provisional, but still go search for my first shot. Foot wedge, life saver, tournament rules, I carry my baggage draped over my shoulders, I got room for yours if you wanna bring it over. I'll keep it with the bags under my eyes. But it might get wet when I cry, Whose fooling who, I couldn't even cry if I wanted to. I want to, Ive tried. I tried to save the fly that landed in the wet paint. This is my curse to live this futility. You're gonna die buddy. You're gonna die. I will snap one final salute before I sand your guts into the finish when it dries. But while preoccupied with dying, you forgot to live. I doubt that theres much more that you could possibly give, I see you caught in your day to day trials and tribulations and never noticed the smiles that were on your kids faces. Face it, you got fear for miles and files of guilt piled in no particular order, the only order in life's disorder the strifes normal it's supposed to form sores in the corners of your mouth. But do you have the faith to follow me up the mountain and at the summit congregate and drink from the fountain, on the way passing the low hanging fruit from the tree of life, drawing straight for the bright pedals of the flower of death.
And I fade away, Now lay down your burden, As I have laid down my burden, We will finally get to go home now, We will win when we go down,
Rope burn broke neck freefall to the pavement firing squad overdose drowning in a flooded basement. I'm part alien, part beast, part tripping over my own feet and falling on my own sword so. WHAT. Bludgeoned and castrated, on display to be electrocuted onstage for the crescendo . No innuendo but a bat to the face and it's finally my turn to burn at the fucking stake. while choking on some steak, and reliving my mistakes, in my mind i'm skydiving in reverse toward my fate. But mein kampf, is mein kampf, just try to bury me alive in that pine box. It won't do you any good but I know you'll try, I will not, I won't, I can't, I can't Die.
Because the fear for miles deals in pity and tears, fork in the road and knowingly taking that right turn. I'm following the man in the cloak, Dem got mortar and pestle, rendering down the bone as atonement turn to tears. I taste the soft light, you wit it? That' great, patience is torturous and so is the closed gate. We all got gaged lobes, alien finger probes in case the ancients take us to the pyramids and fuck us to oblivion. And the city I'm living in created the plutonium, prototypical pseudo god harnessed in the fat man. Release the clamp, I'm salivating for this and making damn sure I'm strapped to it's back when it falls and flips, I'm calling dibs, I'm laying claim to the irradiated holding tanks of waste under the soil you renamed, waiting on the weather vane to pop, wether or not we got, ulterior motive, arterial block, blood clot. Theres money in that poisonous bubbling skin, the forgotten ton of flesh that paved the road west. Harvesting the parts I deem worthy of more tests, and get back to you with the biopsy results when your check clears. Throat clearing the most endearing the host is here nope. I suffered with the indigenous folk of bikini atoll, and tattoo stone to chisel out the damn forbidden omen, sanskrit certain death hand written he who opens this. He who enters here gets shit out the ass of disney, But only after you've been processed through it's psychedelic kidneys. And broken down to barcodes and email address while your hair, skin, and nails adorn the gaudiest of all the kings headdresses.

Cicada

Occam's Razor

Don't you get it? I got my suspicions, I got misgivings, I pave the trail with the wishes that my Djinn gives. A shady mosaic that leads toward the river that keeps the lord of the deep. More grim than the reap eats skin my Leviathan speaks, in the tongue of the drum beat, 30 leagues deep. Into the abyss and the distance in between, the lies I've lived and the flies that I've been feeding, I died 500 deaths, took 500 last breaths, washed up on the shore tattered and torn nothing left. I got neglect infinitum on my face cause these scratches run deep, cheeks emaciated. Tracking back on the train and a vein collapse in the pain of it. The steam engine spit valve etiquette. It's time to get my wings from Daedalus and burst out the hydrothermal vents I'll emerge to reverse with all the 
crestfallen.
These limbs, they run crooked and twisted like the ribs of kids after years of mistreatment. The Chankiri killing tree couldn't save you from the high seas that drowned everything. Written in the scrolls of Skellis, foretold in the Old Testament, with scientific evidence of primordial intelligence, embellished with intestines and sadistic commitment, To my bag of tools used to remove any remaining feelings I ever had of loving you.
You can't hide in those sleeves, as a disease to society. You're a demigod or gorgon my town disperses atoms in fashion so violent I'm in disbelief. I'm hungry, I haven't eaten for days, I've been waiting patiently for movement to cease. Wicked little livid intrepid and desperate, I turn calm and collected as long as it's essence stays vapid, and burn the nerve endings to numb. The feeling of the blood let and rage against the dying of the lounge. Limelight will crumble, flight of the black shadow, over the blackballed strand backdrop to cityscape. On a pier that drops off into a sunset made of rust, an awakened panel gland can spontaneously combust, I conduct the end with my fallen friends of grace only to find out that turned against this old disfigured face. 
These wings they run crooked and twisted like the Chankiri killing limbs the worst of human traits, to infest and infect beyond the threshold of what would be accepted as normal wear and tear on the soul. And these limbs they run crooked and biblical the chankiri killing off every single miracle, embellished with intestines and sadistic commitment to my bag of tools used to remove every remaining feeling I ever had.  (beat is not mine)

The Chankiri Killing Tree

Christs sake what sent this snake,
It needs its head like I need more heartache. Right?
Susudio in studio pollutants don't exist
Scratch my name, legislate, registrate, human skin
Got that melanin shade draw,
Reminds me of a noose,
Tie to match the tile and smile to peel your loosely fitted suits,
On my power struggles,
Don't take these necks for having give,
My last breath will be a soul saver
Your mouths a shit sieve, Hey>
I take nothing but the faith,
The value of your face isn't worth the time it takes,
To have a hot take after hot take hot shit,
Relax the description that you give,

I got an 800 foot tall statue of the corpo lay sleek in his room
with fast food and heavy trigger finger,
So create crosses with your middle fingers,
Evil spirits trapped in their orbital sockets,
No main event is without a bark loud tent pitcher mistake,
The redness was cute like the deadness in head,
And the deflector of your essence crying antidepressants
And respect is out the window recollective of your ethics,
I'm just a motive
I got the vitamin
Wanna heal the ill
Slide easy with the functionality
Sorry for my reek
It's very off-putting 
Y'all switch sides with me?
It's like those kind of eyes that wherever you're standing in the room it's like they are always looking at you.   gross

I got an 800 foot tall statue of the corpo lay sleek in his room with fast food and  heavy trigger finger.
Those eyes are like doll eyes,
Glazed and glassed,

Available for resubsciption 
If another day is given to me
I might be able to say
Classical Molotov
Give me just a shred.
All I need is thee intent
I like the ones that I used in my darknesses
That only goes down when the fan starts shit spitting
I'll beat the drum to my dumb ass galavant
Dilution of soul with the knack for the alchemy

I fully understand the gravity
Stay off my god damned lawn
I aint having it.

I got a 800 foot tall statue of the corpo lay sleek in his room with fast food and heavy trigger finger.

Those eyes are like doll eyes
Glazed and Glassed x2

Beat is off RTJ1.  Its just for fun. sun>

The Unfound Dead

Tilt at Windmills

Fits of glass

Sixo beat with lyrics written a done by myself in Buck 65's gravel.

Nothing and Hell

Experimental Sound Therapy for the sole purpose of battling late onset sudden infant death syndrome.

RIVER TEETH

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