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trevor-stuart
trevor-stuart
I like to rap and do spoken word poetry.
Feeling isolated, sometimes i don't feel as though I'm the type to make it angsty anxious soul sedated so I type to make it self described as the greatest self described overrated self prescribed medication self denies that exploitation this could be the "realest **** i ever wrote" yet its honestly nothing more than mental notes reminders that I'm not dead yet remind me when I'm dead, yet come find me when my head's set solidly on my shoulders don't know why I'm so sick of being HERE... my mental state's constantly all over I'm often sought for "good advice" often thought of "being right" "living life" well while you whisper "listen" without thinking twice I whimper at the thought of life misheard, disregard me in the spotlight cuz... dawg... my soapbox full of termites.. don't wanna preach to the choir don't wanna talk to the congregation and I'm sure with all these blunts I'm facin I'm bound to be famous isn't that how it works...? or am i.. bound to be facin blunt truths and those famous cliches we love to hate why I'm sending love every which way? when that love always comes back as a switchblade? that cuts so deeply given a forewarning, yet left in dismay, as to say "now this may hurt..." "but learned lessons..-" -THEY DON'T LESSEN **** my scars have stories but trust me, being scarred is a different story I'm still sore where that passion burnt lately I've been wondering if writing is rather vain work combined with this lack of passion its got me questioning my body and whether veins work or not regardless when you blowing wind; you should know my weather vane works a lot but most of the time i try to find justifications to my observations- "-yoooooo everyone deserves a second chance b" but I'm simply asking how long do your seconds last?, see the last time I was "stuck in the moment" I grasped on tight and tried to slow it, but there's no escaping the fact that things come and go seasons change from summer sun to falling leaves and rain, then snow ... listen... falling leaves a back broken.. but while lying there staring blank into the dimly lit ceiling snapped in half, i realized that the hardest part about the ego and letting go is having to say, "sorry i was just stuck in the past.." what kinda **** is that.....
0
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
iso (late)
Feeling isolated, sometimes i don't feel as though I'm the type to make it angsty anxious soul sedated so I type to make it self described as the greatest self described overrated self prescribed medication self denies that exploitation this could be the "realest **** i ever wrote" yet its honestly nothing more than mental notes reminders that I'm not dead yet remind me when I'm dead, yet come find me when my head's set solidly on my shoulders don't know why I'm so sick of being HERE... my mental state's constantly all over I'm often sought for "good advice" often thought of "being right" "living life" well while you whisper "listen" without thinking twice I whimper at the thought of life misheard, disregard me in the spotlight cuz... dawg... my soapbox full of termites.. don't wanna preach to the choir don't wanna talk to the congregation and I'm sure with all these blunts I'm facin I'm bound to be famous isn't that how it works...? or am i.. bound to be facin blunt truths and those famous cliches we love to hate why I'm sending love every which way? when that love always comes back as a switchblade? that cuts so deeply given a forewarning, yet left in dismay, as to say "now this may hurt..." "but learned lessons..-" -THEY DON'T LESSEN **** my scars have stories but trust me, being scarred is a different story I'm still sore where that passion burnt lately I've been wondering if writing is rather vain work combined with this lack of passion its got me questioning my body and whether veins work or not regardless when you blowing wind; you should know my weather vane works a lot but most of the time i try to find justifications to my observations- "-yoooooo everyone deserves a second chance b" but I'm simply asking how long do your seconds last?, see the last time I was "stuck in the moment" I grasped on tight and tried to slow it, but there's no escaping the fact that things come and go seasons change from summer sun to falling leaves and rain, then snow ... listen... falling leaves a back broken.. but while lying there staring blank into the dimly lit ceiling snapped in half, i realized that the hardest part about the ego and letting go is having to say, "sorry i was just stuck in the past.." what kinda **** is that.....
Continue reading...
73
Decisions, A split-second where life should be considered
0
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
untitled
I put so much effort into random places, so much effort into random faces face it im faceless placeless drifting shifting thoughts towards destiny feeling empty, wondering whats left in me...? messages esoteric terrorize my rhetoric pedestrians staring glaring gazin gotta get a second look shook layers shed, fall from those ancient snakes left for dead suffocated, stranded damaged god ****** this sunless planet is madness immobilized try to find sense in a broke world what are hands without manipulation? and in life? death is a stipulation a fools gold is never within grasp so clasp delusions Grandiose with a toast to sham pain and champagne emptied grails course through mans veins oh to see what mirrors saw would reflections appear at all? peer into the endless ego see nothing but self libido we are all weary travelers, existences' eternal passengers remove masks, flasks, end the charade let serpents slither, and sun bath away from the shade embrace the end of nights push away the start of days just keep in mind which way             the pendulum sways
0
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
ancient snakes (masquerade)
we all flow through life like rivers here and there, crested glimmers sun shimmered atop waves once ripples at last glance of this looking glass..? men surely shivered locked in depths of mind where feral thoughts blind binded by "my" mentality the self is selectively obsessive malevolent eloquent evident in heaven sent temperament I. I.. I... can do no wrong.. can do no wrong. can do no wrong! those with bias revel in personally pious thought a myriad of self destruction pompous contemplation decimates civilization we all flow the same way we all ride the same wave once a ripple from a stones throw bound to glimmer when we all flow
0
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
river flow
a hole void of light dwelling in hellish mental wells with no fight, flight or rational weeeeelllllll, ..... oh well.... man, acclimated to dirt ceilings/sealings, and unless stars are aligned will be born dead before found alive roots from life hang over head, .. **** em.. .. just empty promises from another dead so, sit in solitude a solemn wreck show helping hands, real neglect to uncover this hovel.? no shovel will do even a sympathy symphony wont let light shine through Empower. manifest mountain-tops from bottom rocks-once-kicked blossom bottle-rock-ets from sticks, stones, and, thoughts of home illuminate cold dismal walls elucidate ambitious calls burst forth reborn alter the skyline with mind refined you can do anything you put your mind to look in the mirror say im just tryna find you
0
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
THE HOLE
I saw demise in her eyes acceptance of a summarized existence in this instance incidentally its in stints well baby take my hand and we'll ride the intertwining serpentine you feelin my energy in an instant i feel i know you missed this lips reveal whats sealed from description oh woe to words, absurd innately oh woe to words' deceptive paintings We owe an ode to the world, and im thinking maybe its this moment its this moment in this moment I feel relative in this moment, man, im so not relevant what tomorrow holds, there is no tellin ya weve only just crossed paths yet Ive known you for millennia Universal Invocations serendipitous relations deceitful daggers draped in red cloths slash at eternal hearts carried by temporary raven claws disperse fall into insanity and land in my lap of chance no more wallowing in the mire rhetorical kiaros at a glance awake, shake these dreams from my hair evaporate those inhibitions into thin air exposed soul, open emotion to bare tip-toeing the peripherals of Medusa's glare convergence in a vicious cycle vinyl in perpetual spiral, we rendezvous in eternity convergence in a vicious cycle vinyl in perpetual spiral, situated, stuck internally Many moons might fall and several suns will set but in this instance, together, we'll always be infinite
0
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
INFINITE INSTANCE