BreathLessInk - Hello Poetry

Heavy, Defiant Still standing in the storm, yeah the rain don’t phase me, Watched demons take souls, tried to reach and save me. Glass eyes, slow breath, seen the light go dim, But I crawled through the dark, didn’t drown with them. Thunder in my chest, hear the pain transform, Every scar tell a story, I was shaped by the storm. They fell to the needle, I refused that norm, Now I stand ten toes, still alive in the storm. The Low Ash on the table, burnt spoons in the sink, Whole house smell like regret and cheap drink. Voices all slurred, promises thin, “Tomorrow I’ll quit”—yeah I heard that again. Seen friends fade out while they still alive, Bodies in the room but the soul don’t drive. Eyes like ghosts, no fight inside, Just chasing that numb where the truth can’t hide. I was right there too, toe on the edge, Pain got loud, almost took the pledge. One hit, one slip, one “I don’t care,” Whole life disappear in a cloud of despair. Tension Rise But something in me wouldn’t let it win, Voice in the static said “don’t give in.” World went black but I held that spark, Even lost in the light, I could see through the dark. Same but hits harder Still standing in the storm, yeah the rain don’t phase me, Watched demons take souls, tried to reach and save me. Glass eyes, slow breath, seen the light go dim, But I crawled through the dark, didn’t drown with them. Thunder in my chest, hear the pain transform, Every scar tell a story, I was shaped by the storm. They fell to the needle, I refused that norm, Now I stand ten toes, still alive in the storm. Rising / Separation Had to cut ties, yeah it tore me apart, Loving broken people with a bleeding heart. You can’t pull ‘em out if they don’t wanna climb, Learned that truth the hardest kind of time. Phone full of names I don’t call no more, Memories echo like a slammed shut door. Guilt in my chest but I chose to live, Can’t pour from a cup that got nothing to give. Now I move clean, mind sharp like steel, Every breath I take remind me it’s real. Pain turned fuel, I don’t run, I build, Everything they lost, I refuse to **** Reflection I still hear ‘em sometimes in the back of my head, Laughs from the nights that could’ve left me dead. I carry ‘em with me but I don’t go back, I turned that weight into strength on my back. Victory, not perfect but strong Still standing in the storm, I ain’t breaking form, Walked through hellfire, now I weather it warm. They said I’d fold, said I’d lose my way, But I rose from the mud, now I’m here to stay. Thunder in my chest, now it sound like life, Turned pain into purpose, cut clean through the strife. Yeah I seen the bottom, I remember it clear, That’s the reason I’m standing—and I’m still right here.

0

Mar 22

Mar 22, 2026 at 1:14 AM UTC

BreathLessInk

Unstable Ridgeline

Heavy, Defiant Still standing in the storm, yeah the rain don’t phase me, Watched demons take souls, tried to reach and save me. Glass eyes, slow breath, seen the light go dim, But I crawled through the dark, didn’t drown with them. Thunder in my chest, hear the pain transform, Every scar tell a story, I was shaped by the storm. They fell to the needle, I refused that norm, Now I stand ten toes, still alive in the storm. The Low Ash on the table, burnt spoons in the sink, Whole house smell like regret and cheap drink. Voices all slurred, promises thin, “Tomorrow I’ll quit”—yeah I heard that again. Seen friends fade out while they still alive, Bodies in the room but the soul don’t drive. Eyes like ghosts, no fight inside, Just chasing that numb where the truth can’t hide. I was right there too, toe on the edge, Pain got loud, almost took the pledge. One hit, one slip, one “I don’t care,” Whole life disappear in a cloud of despair. Tension Rise But something in me wouldn’t let it win, Voice in the static said “don’t give in.” World went black but I held that spark, Even lost in the light, I could see through the dark. Same but hits harder Still standing in the storm, yeah the rain don’t phase me, Watched demons take souls, tried to reach and save me. Glass eyes, slow breath, seen the light go dim, But I crawled through the dark, didn’t drown with them. Thunder in my chest, hear the pain transform, Every scar tell a story, I was shaped by the storm. They fell to the needle, I refused that norm, Now I stand ten toes, still alive in the storm. Rising / Separation Had to cut ties, yeah it tore me apart, Loving broken people with a bleeding heart. You can’t pull ‘em out if they don’t wanna climb, Learned that truth the hardest kind of time. Phone full of names I don’t call no more, Memories echo like a slammed shut door. Guilt in my chest but I chose to live, Can’t pour from a cup that got nothing to give. Now I move clean, mind sharp like steel, Every breath I take remind me it’s real. Pain turned fuel, I don’t run, I build, Everything they lost, I refuse to **** Reflection I still hear ‘em sometimes in the back of my head, Laughs from the nights that could’ve left me dead. I carry ‘em with me but I don’t go back, I turned that weight into strength on my back. Victory, not perfect but strong Still standing in the storm, I ain’t breaking form, Walked through hellfire, now I weather it warm. They said I’d fold, said I’d lose my way, But I rose from the mud, now I’m here to stay. Thunder in my chest, now it sound like life, Turned pain into purpose, cut clean through the strife. Yeah I seen the bottom, I remember it clear, That’s the reason I’m standing—and I’m still right here.

55

HOOK Moonshine muzzleflash, light the pines when the hammer crash, Jar glow in my grasp, backwoods breath when the spirits splash, Cannon kick, thunderclap, echo runnin’ the timber path, Bandit blood, never slack, Crow‑engine heart in a smokin’ blast. VERSE 1 Moonlit rope on the branch, that’s tension, Boots on gravel, that’s Crow ascension, Jar full shine like a ghost’s intention, Flash so bright make the whole ridge flinchin’. Pine‑sap scent when the shells eject, 808 boom like a debt collect, Rival in the dark tryna interject — I split his whole cadence with a dialect check. Smoke curl up like a sermon chant, Backwoods priest with a steel‑toe stance, Every bar forged like a moonlit lance, Every step echo like a warpath dance. HOOK Moonshine muzzleflash, light the pines when the hammer crash, Jar glow in my grasp, backwoods breath when the spirits splash, Cannon kick, thunderclap, echo runnin’ the timber path, Bandit blood, never slack, Crow‑engine heart in a smokin’ blast. VERSE 2 Shine jar clink like a ritual bell, Flash paint shadows on the shotgun shells, Crow in the clearing where the night won’t tell, I speak in a code only pine roots spell. Backwoods Bandit, outlaw scholar, Moonlight drip on the steel‑blue collar, Every shot fired make the ridge feel smaller, Every rival crumble when the cadence grow taller. Rope swing low like a warning sign, Smoke draw maps in the wintertime, Flash so quick it’ll blind your spine, Then the echo writes scripture in the treeline. OUTRO Moonshine glow on the muzzle’s breath, Flash mark time like a forest death, But the Crow don’t fade — he outlasts the rest, Storm‑engine heart beatin’ out my chest.

0

Mar 14

Mar 14, 2026 at 10:44 PM UTC

BreathLessInk

Moonshine Muzzleflash

HOOK Moonshine muzzleflash, light the pines when the hammer crash, Jar glow in my grasp, backwoods breath when the spirits splash, Cannon kick, thunderclap, echo runnin’ the timber path, Bandit blood, never slack, Crow‑engine heart in a smokin’ blast. VERSE 1 Moonlit rope on the branch, that’s tension, Boots on gravel, that’s Crow ascension, Jar full shine like a ghost’s intention, Flash so bright make the whole ridge flinchin’. Pine‑sap scent when the shells eject, 808 boom like a debt collect, Rival in the dark tryna interject — I split his whole cadence with a dialect check. Smoke curl up like a sermon chant, Backwoods priest with a steel‑toe stance, Every bar forged like a moonlit lance, Every step echo like a warpath dance. HOOK Moonshine muzzleflash, light the pines when the hammer crash, Jar glow in my grasp, backwoods breath when the spirits splash, Cannon kick, thunderclap, echo runnin’ the timber path, Bandit blood, never slack, Crow‑engine heart in a smokin’ blast. VERSE 2 Shine jar clink like a ritual bell, Flash paint shadows on the shotgun shells, Crow in the clearing where the night won’t tell, I speak in a code only pine roots spell. Backwoods Bandit, outlaw scholar, Moonlight drip on the steel‑blue collar, Every shot fired make the ridge feel smaller, Every rival crumble when the cadence grow taller. Rope swing low like a warning sign, Smoke draw maps in the wintertime, Flash so quick it’ll blind your spine, Then the echo writes scripture in the treeline. OUTRO Moonshine glow on the muzzle’s breath, Flash mark time like a forest death, But the Crow don’t fade — he outlasts the rest, Storm‑engine heart beatin’ out my chest.

41

HOOK — Snarled, Fast, Mean Backwoods burnin’, I’m the shadow in the floodlights, 808 cannons make the whole **** mud bite. Tailgate tremblin’, night got stage-fright, Crow in the valley, turn the bonfire blood-bright. HEY— load it up, let the steelboards scream, HEY— I’m the nightmare hidin’ in your moonbeam. --- VERSE 1 — Speed + Venom I’m the backwoods bandit, no halo on me, 808 cannons make the treeline bleed. Chrome in my voice, got the dirt road keyed, Every stomp I drop is a stampede creed. Shadow in the smoke where the law won’t tread, Bootprints burn where the wild ones bled. If the sheriff want noise, tell him come get fed, I’m the storm in the field with a crosshair head. --- PRE-CHORUS — Tension Like a Fuse Tailgate twitchin’, the boards start splittin’, Crowd goes feral when the bass starts hittin’. Feel that rumble? That’s your spine unknittin’, Step in the pit if you’re done with quittin’. --- DROP — Darker, Faster, Meaner LIGHT IT UP— LET THE NIGHT SKY CRACK! LIGHT IT UP— TILL THE TREES LEAN BACK! HEY! HEY!— LET THE BONES GO BLACK! I DON’T RUN, I ATTACK, I ATTACK! --- VERSE 2 — Rival Energy, Crow Dominance I’m the outlaw omen, the valley’s last rite, 808 cannons turn dusk into gunfights. Truck bed throne where I crown my night, Every rival I bury gets a spotlight. Gasoline grin with a soul gone rogue, I’m the whisper in the pines when the fire gets cold. If the devil want smoke, tell him step in bold— I been waitin’ on a king just to watch him fold. HOOK (x2) — Snarled, Fast, Mean Backwoods burnin’, I’m the shadow in the floodlights, 808 cannons make the whole **** mud bite. Tailgate tremblin’, night got stage-fright, Crow in the valley, turn the bonfire blood-bright. HEY— load it up, let the steelboards scream, HEY— I’m the nightmare hidin’ in your moonbeam.

0

Mar 14

Mar 14, 2026 at 10:41 PM UTC

BreathLessInk

Backwoods cannonfire

HOOK — Snarled, Fast, Mean Backwoods burnin’, I’m the shadow in the floodlights, 808 cannons make the whole **** mud bite. Tailgate tremblin’, night got stage-fright, Crow in the valley, turn the bonfire blood-bright. HEY— load it up, let the steelboards scream, HEY— I’m the nightmare hidin’ in your moonbeam. --- VERSE 1 — Speed + Venom I’m the backwoods bandit, no halo on me, 808 cannons make the treeline bleed. Chrome in my voice, got the dirt road keyed, Every stomp I drop is a stampede creed. Shadow in the smoke where the law won’t tread, Bootprints burn where the wild ones bled. If the sheriff want noise, tell him come get fed, I’m the storm in the field with a crosshair head. --- PRE-CHORUS — Tension Like a Fuse Tailgate twitchin’, the boards start splittin’, Crowd goes feral when the bass starts hittin’. Feel that rumble? That’s your spine unknittin’, Step in the pit if you’re done with quittin’. --- DROP — Darker, Faster, Meaner LIGHT IT UP— LET THE NIGHT SKY CRACK! LIGHT IT UP— TILL THE TREES LEAN BACK! HEY! HEY!— LET THE BONES GO BLACK! I DON’T RUN, I ATTACK, I ATTACK! --- VERSE 2 — Rival Energy, Crow Dominance I’m the outlaw omen, the valley’s last rite, 808 cannons turn dusk into gunfights. Truck bed throne where I crown my night, Every rival I bury gets a spotlight. Gasoline grin with a soul gone rogue, I’m the whisper in the pines when the fire gets cold. If the devil want smoke, tell him step in bold— I been waitin’ on a king just to watch him fold. HOOK (x2) — Snarled, Fast, Mean Backwoods burnin’, I’m the shadow in the floodlights, 808 cannons make the whole **** mud bite. Tailgate tremblin’, night got stage-fright, Crow in the valley, turn the bonfire blood-bright. HEY— load it up, let the steelboards scream, HEY— I’m the nightmare hidin’ in your moonbeam.

46

I’m the ritual, the pinnacle, the minimal, the lyrical, The spiritual, the spherical, the miracle, the cyclical, The syllable subliminal, the interval is clinical, The energy is peaceful but the speed is still mythical. I’m the oracle, the particle, the radical, the tactical, The fractal in the factual, the spark inside the practical, The galaxy grammatical, the gravity is magical, I bend a bar so far it turns a waveform diagonal. I’m the chemical, the sentinel, the sentinel’s identical, The metronome that meditates, the pulse that’s metaphysical, The storm inside the syllables, the script that’s unreplicable, A solar‑flare of language turning silence into ritual. I’m the pivotal, the mythical, the cipher that’s elliptical, The lightning in the interval, the breath that’s interstitial, The quantum in the chronicle, the comet that’s conditional, A paradox in motion with a cadence unforgivable. I’m the sentinel, the pinnacle, the infinite original, The architect of intervals, the script that’s inter‑ritual, The orbit of the oracle, the force that bends the physical, A paradox of particles that dance inside the lyrical. I’m the waveform, the brain‑storm, the flame‑born, the astral form, The quiet in the chaos where the constellations gather storms, The algorithm breathing in a universe that fractures norms, A phantom in the vacuum turning pressure into crafted forms. I’m the vector, the projector, the sector‑shifting specter, The echo in the nebula that calibrates the texture, The pulse inside the calculus, the cosmic architecture, A cipher so precise it makes the galaxies conjecture. I'm the mineral, the spiritual, the orbiting peripheral, The syllable that spirals into something metaphysical, The prism in the prism where the visions turn reciprocal, A chronicle of chaos with a cadence that’s residual. I’m the engine, the ascension, the dimension‑bending tension, The script that splits the vacuum with a whisper of intention, The quantum in the question, the collapse before the mention, A myth that moves so fast it turns the cosmos into lessons. I’m the ritual, the pinnacle, returning like a miracle, A cycle in the cycle where the spiral gets empirical, A breath inside the interval that bends the metaphysical, A two‑minute transmission from the edge of the invisible. I’m the vector in the vacuum where the calculus is tactical, The atom in the anthem turning gravity theatrical, The prism in the algorithm splitting every radical, A phantom in the pattern where the fractals get grammatical. I’m the engine in the ether where the frequencies are biblical, The signal in the sine‑wave making chaos feel predictable, The pulse inside the particle, the spark that’s unrestrictable, A chronicle of quantum turning silence into ritual. I’m the sentinel of sequences, the architect of intervals, The orbit in the oracle, the script that bends the physical, The cipher in the cycle where the spiral gets reciprocal, A paradox of pressure pushing language into miracles. I’m the waveform in the war‑form where the cosmos gets symmetrical, The echo in the entropy that calibrates the metrical, The storm inside the syllable, the force that’s inter‑skeptical, A myth that moves so fast it makes the galaxies forgettable. I’m the ritual in motion, I’m the pulse that splits the pinnacle, The minimal made mythical, the lyrical made clinical, The chronicle of chaos with a cadence unforgivable, A 24‑bar omen from the edge of the invisible. Gravitational shockwaves — every breath I take, Bend a bar until the universe begins to break. Pressure in the vacuum when the cadence shakes, I move in shockwaves — I don’t rap, I quake. Gravity collapses when the syllables align, I’m bending every atom with the structure of a rhyme. Shockwaves ripple through the fabric of design, I fracture every limit when the ritual combines. Gravitational shockwaves — feel the orbit shift, I’m pulling every bar into a cosmic drift. The cadence is a weapon and the pulse is a gift, I shake the whole dimension every time that I lift. I move in shockwaves, I breathe in spirals, A myth in motion, bending every cycle. Silence breaks when the ritual wakes, I leave the cosmos trembling in my wake. A pulse in the void where the echoes stay, Gravitational shockwaves fade away.

0

Feb 25

Feb 25, 2026 at 5:29 PM UTC

BreathLessInk

GRAVITATIONAL SHOCKWAVES

I’m the ritual, the pinnacle, the minimal, the lyrical, The spiritual, the spherical, the miracle, the cyclical, The syllable subliminal, the interval is clinical, The energy is peaceful but the speed is still mythical. I’m the oracle, the particle, the radical, the tactical, The fractal in the factual, the spark inside the practical, The galaxy grammatical, the gravity is magical, I bend a bar so far it turns a waveform diagonal. I’m the chemical, the sentinel, the sentinel’s identical, The metronome that meditates, the pulse that’s metaphysical, The storm inside the syllables, the script that’s unreplicable, A solar‑flare of language turning silence into ritual. I’m the pivotal, the mythical, the cipher that’s elliptical, The lightning in the interval, the breath that’s interstitial, The quantum in the chronicle, the comet that’s conditional, A paradox in motion with a cadence unforgivable. I’m the sentinel, the pinnacle, the infinite original, The architect of intervals, the script that’s inter‑ritual, The orbit of the oracle, the force that bends the physical, A paradox of particles that dance inside the lyrical. I’m the waveform, the brain‑storm, the flame‑born, the astral form, The quiet in the chaos where the constellations gather storms, The algorithm breathing in a universe that fractures norms, A phantom in the vacuum turning pressure into crafted forms. I’m the vector, the projector, the sector‑shifting specter, The echo in the nebula that calibrates the texture, The pulse inside the calculus, the cosmic architecture, A cipher so precise it makes the galaxies conjecture. I'm the mineral, the spiritual, the orbiting peripheral, The syllable that spirals into something metaphysical, The prism in the prism where the visions turn reciprocal, A chronicle of chaos with a cadence that’s residual. I’m the engine, the ascension, the dimension‑bending tension, The script that splits the vacuum with a whisper of intention, The quantum in the question, the collapse before the mention, A myth that moves so fast it turns the cosmos into lessons. I’m the ritual, the pinnacle, returning like a miracle, A cycle in the cycle where the spiral gets empirical, A breath inside the interval that bends the metaphysical, A two‑minute transmission from the edge of the invisible. I’m the vector in the vacuum where the calculus is tactical, The atom in the anthem turning gravity theatrical, The prism in the algorithm splitting every radical, A phantom in the pattern where the fractals get grammatical. I’m the engine in the ether where the frequencies are biblical, The signal in the sine‑wave making chaos feel predictable, The pulse inside the particle, the spark that’s unrestrictable, A chronicle of quantum turning silence into ritual. I’m the sentinel of sequences, the architect of intervals, The orbit in the oracle, the script that bends the physical, The cipher in the cycle where the spiral gets reciprocal, A paradox of pressure pushing language into miracles. I’m the waveform in the war‑form where the cosmos gets symmetrical, The echo in the entropy that calibrates the metrical, The storm inside the syllable, the force that’s inter‑skeptical, A myth that moves so fast it makes the galaxies forgettable. I’m the ritual in motion, I’m the pulse that splits the pinnacle, The minimal made mythical, the lyrical made clinical, The chronicle of chaos with a cadence unforgivable, A 24‑bar omen from the edge of the invisible. Gravitational shockwaves — every breath I take, Bend a bar until the universe begins to break. Pressure in the vacuum when the cadence shakes, I move in shockwaves — I don’t rap, I quake. Gravity collapses when the syllables align, I’m bending every atom with the structure of a rhyme. Shockwaves ripple through the fabric of design, I fracture every limit when the ritual combines. Gravitational shockwaves — feel the orbit shift, I’m pulling every bar into a cosmic drift. The cadence is a weapon and the pulse is a gift, I shake the whole dimension every time that I lift. I move in shockwaves, I breathe in spirals, A myth in motion, bending every cycle. Silence breaks when the ritual wakes, I leave the cosmos trembling in my wake. A pulse in the void where the echoes stay, Gravitational shockwaves fade away.

78

I’m the phantom of your Ayahuasca dreams, Creepin’ through shadows like moonlit schemes. Broker of pacts with your panic attacks, Demons play nice when I whisper the facts. Don’t gotta tell nobody, I’m stitched in your throat, Voice box wired with syringes I wrote. Baptized lullabies, hexin’ your sins, Cradled in ash where the silence begins. I’m the ventriloquist twistin’ your system, Spittin’ in rhythms that split your religion. Puppets in haze, morphine ballet, Ghosts pull strings while your soul decays. Twisted amens, cremation confessions, Faith fed to the furnace—no blessings. Banisteriopsis, marionettist queen, Pullin’ sinew strings in a vine-laced dream. She dances your grief in a jungle of pain, Whispers them hexes like acid rain. Ayahuasca breath, splice the decay, Demons curtsy, silence obey. I’m the glitch in your gospel, the venom in verse, Every rhyme’s a hearse, every line’s a curse. I lace your silence with psychotropic gleam, Dreams drip ink in a ketamine stream.

0

Nov 13, 2025

Nov 13, 2025 at 4:17 PM UTC

BreathLessInk

Ayahuasca Marionette

I’m the phantom of your Ayahuasca dreams, Creepin’ through shadows like moonlit schemes. Broker of pacts with your panic attacks, Demons play nice when I whisper the facts. Don’t gotta tell nobody, I’m stitched in your throat, Voice box wired with syringes I wrote. Baptized lullabies, hexin’ your sins, Cradled in ash where the silence begins. I’m the ventriloquist twistin’ your system, Spittin’ in rhythms that split your religion. Puppets in haze, morphine ballet, Ghosts pull strings while your soul decays. Twisted amens, cremation confessions, Faith fed to the furnace—no blessings. Banisteriopsis, marionettist queen, Pullin’ sinew strings in a vine-laced dream. She dances your grief in a jungle of pain, Whispers them hexes like acid rain. Ayahuasca breath, splice the decay, Demons curtsy, silence obey. I’m the glitch in your gospel, the venom in verse, Every rhyme’s a hearse, every line’s a curse. I lace your silence with psychotropic gleam, Dreams drip ink in a ketamine stream.

24

They dress up decay in diamonds, call it love, call it legacy. But I see the rust beneath the glitter, and I spit truth like venom in a velvet chalice. This world’s a theater of fakes, drama stitched in skin-deep stakes. They **** for gold that flakes in rain, then cry when love don’t feel the same. I walk through crowds of mannequins, smiles stapled on with sin. They preach connection, but their hands are hollow— grasping ghosts just to feel something shallow. They trade truth for trending, sell pain for praise. I spit sermons in cipher while they drown in their own haze. I don’t play their game. I burn the board. I don’t chase their fame. I forge the sword. Plastic thrones, poisoned crowns— they rise in noise and fall in sound. They love like leeches, feed on fear. I walk alone but I walk clear. They **** for gold that flakes in light. They love with hearts already blight. I don’t beg. I don’t bend. I just build what they pretend. They post their pain like trophies, but never bleed for real. I write in scars and silence— they just mimic what they feel. I’ve seen love sold in filters, truth drowned in trends. I’ve watched gods turn to influencers and prophets chase dead ends. They wear chaos like fashion, but I wear mine like armor. They scream for attention— I whisper for honor. I don’t need their spotlight— I burn in eclipse. I don’t need their lips— I speak from crypts. Let them crown themselves in plastic. Let them dance in drama’s flame. I’ll be carving truth in tombstones while they chase a hollow name. I don’t want their gold— it flakes too fast. I don’t want their love— it’s built to crash. I want silence that sings. I want pain that’s pure. I want legacy that can endure. Plastic thrones, poisoned crowns— they rise in noise and fall in sound. They **** for gold that flakes in light. They love with hearts already blight. I walk alone but I walk true. I build from ash what they undo. Let them rot in riches. Let them drown in fame. I’ll be the echo they couldn’t name.

0

Aug 20, 2025

Aug 20, 2025 at 1:44 PM UTC

BreathLessInk

Plastic thrones and poisoned crowns

They dress up decay in diamonds, call it love, call it legacy. But I see the rust beneath the glitter, and I spit truth like venom in a velvet chalice. This world’s a theater of fakes, drama stitched in skin-deep stakes. They **** for gold that flakes in rain, then cry when love don’t feel the same. I walk through crowds of mannequins, smiles stapled on with sin. They preach connection, but their hands are hollow— grasping ghosts just to feel something shallow. They trade truth for trending, sell pain for praise. I spit sermons in cipher while they drown in their own haze. I don’t play their game. I burn the board. I don’t chase their fame. I forge the sword. Plastic thrones, poisoned crowns— they rise in noise and fall in sound. They love like leeches, feed on fear. I walk alone but I walk clear. They **** for gold that flakes in light. They love with hearts already blight. I don’t beg. I don’t bend. I just build what they pretend. They post their pain like trophies, but never bleed for real. I write in scars and silence— they just mimic what they feel. I’ve seen love sold in filters, truth drowned in trends. I’ve watched gods turn to influencers and prophets chase dead ends. They wear chaos like fashion, but I wear mine like armor. They scream for attention— I whisper for honor. I don’t need their spotlight— I burn in eclipse. I don’t need their lips— I speak from crypts. Let them crown themselves in plastic. Let them dance in drama’s flame. I’ll be carving truth in tombstones while they chase a hollow name. I don’t want their gold— it flakes too fast. I don’t want their love— it’s built to crash. I want silence that sings. I want pain that’s pure. I want legacy that can endure. Plastic thrones, poisoned crowns— they rise in noise and fall in sound. They **** for gold that flakes in light. They love with hearts already blight. I walk alone but I walk true. I build from ash what they undo. Let them rot in riches. Let them drown in fame. I’ll be the echo they couldn’t name.

84

Mind flips like aces / deck ain’t stacked—it’s cursed Rabbit ran but I reversed / chase the clock till time’s coerced Hat too loud for hush / grin stitched with fury finesse Drawl pulls teeth from truth / I don’t speak—I compress I skip through mirrors with boots in bloom / logic’s looted, tethered tomb Southern slang on shroomed syntax / I bend reality just to make it room Teacup scalded with rebel steam / slurp chaos when the world don’t dream Pocket watch don’t tick for me / I punctuate pain with rural gleam Hatter but no haberdashery / scars dressed sharp in auditory Wordplay thick like swamp at dusk / I spit static with auditory rush I don’t rap—I incant rage / every verse is stage and cage I craft metaphors with serpents’ teeth / spit sermons stitched in glitch and grief I’m madder than most but I balance the burn Drawl stays sly while the syllables churn Tea party’s dead—I just feast on the void Truth twisted tight like toys I destroyed No name, no face, just venom and spit Madness ain’t flair—it’s the way I commit If Wonderland flips, I flip first Trap soul in flow, then grind in verse Top hat packed with paradox / Southern slang slick like shadowbox I punch lines through paradox / my syntax spits when clocks get locked Verse bends time like metal warped / cadence cleaves like tongues torqued Y’all wear fame—I wear flame / my drawl defies and distorts Hooked on ink and impact scars / I rhyme in scars and rebel bars If thought was straight, I'd twist it / I load rhyme clips and risk it Ain’t sane, ain’t sorry, just sulfurous joy I rap like silence is something to destroy I ain’t the hat—I’m the storm beneath I speak in riddles, rot, and wreath If Wonderland lost me, good— I’m busy carving verses they misunderstood

0

Aug 20, 2025

Aug 20, 2025 at 1:39 PM UTC

BreathLessInk

Madder then the hat I ware

Mind flips like aces / deck ain’t stacked—it’s cursed Rabbit ran but I reversed / chase the clock till time’s coerced Hat too loud for hush / grin stitched with fury finesse Drawl pulls teeth from truth / I don’t speak—I compress I skip through mirrors with boots in bloom / logic’s looted, tethered tomb Southern slang on shroomed syntax / I bend reality just to make it room Teacup scalded with rebel steam / slurp chaos when the world don’t dream Pocket watch don’t tick for me / I punctuate pain with rural gleam Hatter but no haberdashery / scars dressed sharp in auditory Wordplay thick like swamp at dusk / I spit static with auditory rush I don’t rap—I incant rage / every verse is stage and cage I craft metaphors with serpents’ teeth / spit sermons stitched in glitch and grief I’m madder than most but I balance the burn Drawl stays sly while the syllables churn Tea party’s dead—I just feast on the void Truth twisted tight like toys I destroyed No name, no face, just venom and spit Madness ain’t flair—it’s the way I commit If Wonderland flips, I flip first Trap soul in flow, then grind in verse Top hat packed with paradox / Southern slang slick like shadowbox I punch lines through paradox / my syntax spits when clocks get locked Verse bends time like metal warped / cadence cleaves like tongues torqued Y’all wear fame—I wear flame / my drawl defies and distorts Hooked on ink and impact scars / I rhyme in scars and rebel bars If thought was straight, I'd twist it / I load rhyme clips and risk it Ain’t sane, ain’t sorry, just sulfurous joy I rap like silence is something to destroy I ain’t the hat—I’m the storm beneath I speak in riddles, rot, and wreath If Wonderland lost me, good— I’m busy carving verses they misunderstood

32

I walk upside down on flat ground tongue twist truths till they drown Face ain’t fixed, it flickers I got thoughts in trap and a drawl that slithers Whispers pack punch like bass hits I speak in lines that leave split wrists Ain’t here to entertain—I fracture frames if sanity’s sane, I spit disdain Madness ain’t noise, it’s code I break silence in a Southern mode Smile too wide for mercy my metaphors bloom where the blood be thirsty Talk slick, slow—each word’s a twitch I grin in gaps and stitch the glitch Thoughts slither in syllable stings I spit sermons where silence clings Camouflage ain’t invisibility it’s clarity where they fear agility My rhyme scheme don't spiral—it lacerates grin so sharp, it decapitates I got claws in cadence speak peace then twist the placement I crack their logic with lullabies and slip through truths they fantasize I never blink, just splits I flip each phrase and burn their scripts Don’t chase fame, chase fractures drawl drops slow like haunted actors Smile’s the weapon, verse is the war grin in the dark then break the floor I rap like riddles with venom teeth they talk in echoes—I spit beneath Unfold like smoke in midnight swamp syntax coiled like rebel stomp Trap souls with a twang too real lace rhymes that gut then seal I ain't mad—I’m precision masked words bend space where shadows bask Each metaphor’s a mark I etch doubt into their spark My grin’s a gateway, not a gesture I speak in fractures, not in pressure I don’t need chaos—I am the glitch rhyme’s my gospel, madness my pitch Southern soul stitched in cipher heat I don’t spit bars—I cleave deceit They rhyme to rhyme—I rhyme to haunt if thoughts were doors, I kick the front Track don't fade—it evaporates my style don't mimic, it mutilates Cheshire in drawl, mind in ruins grin is gospel, cipher’s communion

0

Aug 20, 2025

Aug 20, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC

BreathLessInk

(not titled yet)

I walk upside down on flat ground tongue twist truths till they drown Face ain’t fixed, it flickers I got thoughts in trap and a drawl that slithers Whispers pack punch like bass hits I speak in lines that leave split wrists Ain’t here to entertain—I fracture frames if sanity’s sane, I spit disdain Madness ain’t noise, it’s code I break silence in a Southern mode Smile too wide for mercy my metaphors bloom where the blood be thirsty Talk slick, slow—each word’s a twitch I grin in gaps and stitch the glitch Thoughts slither in syllable stings I spit sermons where silence clings Camouflage ain’t invisibility it’s clarity where they fear agility My rhyme scheme don't spiral—it lacerates grin so sharp, it decapitates I got claws in cadence speak peace then twist the placement I crack their logic with lullabies and slip through truths they fantasize I never blink, just splits I flip each phrase and burn their scripts Don’t chase fame, chase fractures drawl drops slow like haunted actors Smile’s the weapon, verse is the war grin in the dark then break the floor I rap like riddles with venom teeth they talk in echoes—I spit beneath Unfold like smoke in midnight swamp syntax coiled like rebel stomp Trap souls with a twang too real lace rhymes that gut then seal I ain't mad—I’m precision masked words bend space where shadows bask Each metaphor’s a mark I etch doubt into their spark My grin’s a gateway, not a gesture I speak in fractures, not in pressure I don’t need chaos—I am the glitch rhyme’s my gospel, madness my pitch Southern soul stitched in cipher heat I don’t spit bars—I cleave deceit They rhyme to rhyme—I rhyme to haunt if thoughts were doors, I kick the front Track don't fade—it evaporates my style don't mimic, it mutilates Cheshire in drawl, mind in ruins grin is gospel, cipher’s communion

51

Sitting here with a cloudy mind, thoughts drifting like smoke signals in slow rewind. My sorrows lift like morning fog, never loud—just gone. Never been simple, always complex, like trying to read scripture in shattered text. Days fuse into years in a flash, like lightning stitched to memory’s ash. Always circling around my heart, like vultures that know where the truth starts. Confused on moments, long gone, replaced with dreams I never asked to dawn. Stationary, intertwining— like oak roots tangled in silver lining. I don’t move fast, but I grow deep, in soil soaked with secrets I keep. Some days the skies are bright, like forgiveness dressed in light. Other days darker than the abyss, where chaos slow dances with bliss. I ain’t lost. I’m layered. I ain’t broken. I’m weathered. This mind ain’t clear, but it’s mine. And every cloud still lets me shine.

0

Aug 20, 2025

Aug 20, 2025 at 11:54 AM UTC

BreathLessInk

Layered mind

Sitting here with a cloudy mind, thoughts drifting like smoke signals in slow rewind. My sorrows lift like morning fog, never loud—just gone. Never been simple, always complex, like trying to read scripture in shattered text. Days fuse into years in a flash, like lightning stitched to memory’s ash. Always circling around my heart, like vultures that know where the truth starts. Confused on moments, long gone, replaced with dreams I never asked to dawn. Stationary, intertwining— like oak roots tangled in silver lining. I don’t move fast, but I grow deep, in soil soaked with secrets I keep. Some days the skies are bright, like forgiveness dressed in light. Other days darker than the abyss, where chaos slow dances with bliss. I ain’t lost. I’m layered. I ain’t broken. I’m weathered. This mind ain’t clear, but it’s mine. And every cloud still lets me shine.

28

I been driving through Cold Shoulder County, where the liquor’s cheap but pain stacks a bounty. Gas station breath and a rearview lie, I chased her name through a bloodshot sky. The stars don’t talk when the bottle’s full, they just flicker out when the memories pull. Every mile’s a sermon I can’t recite, so I sing to the dark just to feel alright. 'Cause there ain’t no mercy on the way I bend, just barstool hymns and nights that never end. This voice ain’t gold, it’s rust and smoke, I croon from pain when my prayers choke. If you hear me loud when you’re breaking down, I ain’t the cure— but I’m still around. Got a gospel hum in a scratchy throat, I’ve loved like fire but it never wrote. Drove home drunk in a suit of blame, sang my truth but she burned the frame. My mama said, “Son, the pills won’t fix ya,” and the preacher nodded but he never blessed ya. I ain’t a sinner, I’m just too worn to fake redemption in a suit I’ve torn. Cold Shoulder County don’t keep score, it just lets you drink until you’re sore. But I remember how her silence hit— like a goodbye dipped in spit. Don’t call it healing, call it grit, a song from ruin that refuses to quit. I’ve carved my name in motel dust, loved too hard and lost my trust. But if you’re aching in some backroad storm, know this chorus keeps you warm. Sing with me if the night gets loud, we’ll write new hymns from a shattered crowd. There ain’t no mercy on the way I bend, just cracked guitars and texts I’ll never send. My voice ain’t gold, it’s mud and flame, but I’ll keep singing through the blame. If you hear me clear in the quiet ache, I ain’t the cure— but I’ll never break.

0

Jul 26, 2025

Jul 26, 2025 at 3:51 PM UTC

BreathLessInk

Cold Shoulder County

I been driving through Cold Shoulder County, where the liquor’s cheap but pain stacks a bounty. Gas station breath and a rearview lie, I chased her name through a bloodshot sky. The stars don’t talk when the bottle’s full, they just flicker out when the memories pull. Every mile’s a sermon I can’t recite, so I sing to the dark just to feel alright. 'Cause there ain’t no mercy on the way I bend, just barstool hymns and nights that never end. This voice ain’t gold, it’s rust and smoke, I croon from pain when my prayers choke. If you hear me loud when you’re breaking down, I ain’t the cure— but I’m still around. Got a gospel hum in a scratchy throat, I’ve loved like fire but it never wrote. Drove home drunk in a suit of blame, sang my truth but she burned the frame. My mama said, “Son, the pills won’t fix ya,” and the preacher nodded but he never blessed ya. I ain’t a sinner, I’m just too worn to fake redemption in a suit I’ve torn. Cold Shoulder County don’t keep score, it just lets you drink until you’re sore. But I remember how her silence hit— like a goodbye dipped in spit. Don’t call it healing, call it grit, a song from ruin that refuses to quit. I’ve carved my name in motel dust, loved too hard and lost my trust. But if you’re aching in some backroad storm, know this chorus keeps you warm. Sing with me if the night gets loud, we’ll write new hymns from a shattered crowd. There ain’t no mercy on the way I bend, just cracked guitars and texts I’ll never send. My voice ain’t gold, it’s mud and flame, but I’ll keep singing through the blame. If you hear me clear in the quiet ache, I ain’t the cure— but I’ll never break.

60