Glued to the T.V.
When you explore the mouth of a tiger and don’t find a genie,
But meet the teeth of a beast who is grinning out feed me.
Is this the world my teachers praised and reminded me of?
Damn, no wonder I’m glued to the T.V.
Drug called control and getting off it isn't easy.
When addicted to it you become a victim to it, insuring a stormy life
And words aren't making it breezy.
Damn, no wonder I’m glued to the TV.
Rather not hear the complaints of feminists,
Or pay attention to images of slit writs that only provoke me to reminisce
About some stupid shit that didn't apply to me but I wished it did, until it really did.
No tears shed, whenever I’m glued to the TV.
Religious fear implemented by the hypocritical, demented spirits who will spit at you
And write the lamented.
Not the desired destination for eternal resting, but hell in a daydream is so interesting.
Anybody who walks on holier ground would have stood and questioned
But I’d rather be Constantine than a teen that complains constantly.
Damn, no wonder I’m glued to the TV.
It should be against the law to escape into another’s mind,
Or have your dreams influenced by another’s.
“Who Framed Roger Rabbit”, we’ll find out some other rhyme,
But let’s put on Loki’s mask to and joke of each other’s crimes.
Inspired to do so,
Glued to the TV.
The past can hurt, but I can either accept it or neglect it, and come up with a situation thats never going to be selected by reality,
She hurt me all over, scarred my anatomy,
From the left side of my chest to my abdominal cavity
To save myself all of the agony,
My dreams are where I lay now, with all the cartoons, thats where I stay now
Fruits on a stick being carried by a baboon, and I hope he's teaching this geminaic bafoon
that theres two sides to the moon,
Feel like simba stepping in his fathers paw print, as a vulture waits on my final seconds of coughing, but where are my friends? Timon and pumba to the rescue ;what it might seem, but it all actuality its just a pipe dream,
I have to fend for myself, and when life gets hard I have to pretend for myself,
I dont believe in suicide or bitter ending myself, Im not condeming myself,
Is there such thing as the greatest or are you just the latest?
DNA mixed with chromosomes, little bit of greatness,
Do you have to do it first, or do it better than the first person?
Life is not a game but the experience is in first person,
And the way you could hurt me is zero to none, but in the ways of many,
Hope the number of days I have left is not to shy of many, but I wonder the most all is at what’s the center,
Will you consider this a poem because I press enter? Just a thought, which is a splinter, leading to another moment, hindered, and it hurts like a wound cut open on a subzero winter day,
Blah blah blah, Damn, I’m stuck, what should I say......
Looking in the dictionary where words are legislated, a place where black and white has never been so creative, and then I get creative, the piece of paper is landscape waiting for a God to come create it, so I ask God to make my words almighty, Speak it and none shall debate it,
"But watch out for the snakes Ben, anacondas of the drama, please think of relocating, as darkness unfolds, and I know you think I created it and maybe I did but I...I...I. Forbid",
I’m stuck again, wanting to be great, wanting to be the best, wanting to be next, less stressed and Noticed, never did they say that life was no test, and I hope I never fail again,
Because next time the gun won’t jam again, tried to play almighty and he laugh and said never try to play again, here’s another chance benny man, I hope you plan to win
Thought of death brings fear enough, but when you want to do it yourself, it never re-appears enough; damn right I’m tearing up, only for a moment my chest is clearing up, but when I go to bed at night I think damn, I’m giving up,
I live with what could have been, and now it haunts me, they say the fear keeps you alive but what’s the phrase for when you don’t want to be?
I’m done thinking now, of course of I’m lying, because if I ever stop thinking of random of stuff, of course I’m dying,
I may never be the greatest, but you know I’m trying, resolutions for the pollution from the voices trying to kill Zion.
It pains me to see you settle for less,
To run away from hands who comfort, into a body full of your reasons for pain,
Embarrassed to admit that you are a fool, No rubbing it in,
Unless its your tears into my heart, when you come back again,
Not a fall back device, Will not say this twice,
Not a face back device,Will not say this twice,
Walk out for a third time,
Leave me here in despair as i professionally repair
The damage that is done
Guess I'm use to it, need no surgeons monologue or a book for it,
Dont pay the pain any mind, can deal with it anytime,
but its job is suppose to remind me of the many times you brought me the opposite of joy,
And I feel that I cant feel because I am a boy, or a man in a sense, becoming a man without some sense,
is it because i have no cent?
Or because my past makes it look like I'm not going anywhere,
but its been proven that people change,
The direction of the air,
leads the changing in the wind, so come take a loser whos only thought to win,
is to have a stranger he thought he knew and loved heart beat within him, and his within hers,
he's repaired it twice, but the third time he was smart and kept his own heart, and found out that,
Lock and key is the way to be,
when dealing with a confused soul who refuses to be alone, but wants to remain free
I walked out into the sunset and saw wings,
Never told anybody; they wouldn't believe,
How do you go to church? Even the holy deceive
And deem a boy insane because of angels he's seen?
Because of miracles that hes brought, the way he changes things,
the way he's always right, its just the way it seems,
Society hates being wrong, so to fears they cling,
And bring pain to the different, I'm seeing at nineteen,
Surrounded by brimstone, but I'm still on green,
Not even asleep yet and I'm having dreams,
Beautiful Nightmares as i put on nightwear,
Anticipate another loving day, and i smite fear,
Closing my eyes as i see angels in the nights sphere,
Pray in my head that my future far from cloudy, and its bright clear.....
A Wolf in sheeps clothing,
hiding out in the open,
focused on not becoming a prodigy, everybody riding me,
can they see through the holes of my sheets, that underneath im not clone, but in fact a beast?
hiding from society?
Sense that im different, my beliefs are not the same,
to stay away becomes a mission, considered to be insane
coming up I wanted to fit in, enjoyed being the same,
but i knew i could do more, so much more i haven't gained,
So bit by bit the cloth came off, and questions were asked,
and I starting letting go of reality, imagination I grasped,
strayed away from the sheep, all they could say is at last,
walked away with my head down, tail touching the grass,
I look back on my past as i walk away,
foot prints disappearing in the ground as my future erases
the memories are now being replaced, but certain risks that i take,
and wonderfully creative faces,
No longer in a sheeps cloth, but woven in my own clothing,
Being different is now accepted, ideas being thrown in the open,
Its rare to be rejected when you do your own thing,
And when the moon finally shines, I feel no foolishness when I sing,
who i am finally doesnt contradict with what i can become, and fire has consumed anything that shows who i was before,
so i howl from enjoyment