Spiraling out to no cognition, I hate this lowly repetition

worst of all is it’s submissive indecision to align this

authentic script into a spiritual renewal;

everything and nothing at all, yet somehow something it seems

in vibrations bleeding colour within a well of many little things

soft spoken but she still sings of places we have never went

newly old faces we have passed by and still have never met

we’re growing tired of the same old events and how every day

It’s the same with all our money already spent and so

you ask for some relativity of a higher clairvoyant clarity

a sentimental, rhythmic release from barriers restricting our peace

of mind and fragile sanity, serenity, how it begs for me

it’s all a scam, do you not yet see?

this ritualistic oppression stemming from a fantasy

a memorable reduction of “close-to-home” regrettable dysfunction

what a shame the world came free, a sham to noteworthy prophecies

in which we see and never speak, still alive but we’re asleep

a nation falling backward on the treaties we’ve since impeached

without slave labor, same-day papers, plastic foods and penny chasers

When the fuck,

Will she speak? Goddamn,

this bitch stayed silent, that freak,

for months not just those last three weeks

and where does time take her traveling through;

in all respects I’m sure she’s spiraling back to you

forever unenthused, “real shit” from the recluse

baby don’t you tire of feeling used?

truly revolutionary, and yet quite the contrary

now the same old faces are growing overwhelmingly weary

it’s fear they see in a fearless world where chances come free

in vessels fitting solely for Divine works, an interplanetary grace

but you tell me it isn’t always how it looks,

Bitch, take to the library

and go read a motherfucking book

‘Sunshine in the hood’ and it’s a sensation

however intricately weird we lack the general foundations

for a reality unseen, sightless to the dreamer and so prevalent it seems

for some time all the world falls beyond a haze of unused lines

disorganized speech at the cost of two more fines

they say I’m out of my mind, baby

and you’ve lost your way

It’s been the same day

Every day, this year

Only mirrors


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