It was a couple of years ago I had an experience I couldn't explain but wouldn't deny.
It was almost like a daydream that took me back to the age of five.
I saw how I was pushed into society before I had developed the wings to fly.
To survive I had to split my soul into two to create a false personality of mine.
Ever since, the 10% I was suppose to give as tide has been occupied by the hatching seeds in the left side of my thin mind.
The experience brought me back to where I lied. I couldnt move and my heart was racing It felt like I was going to die.
At the end of what felt like a paralyzed panic attack I had a strange tingle in the lowest part of my spine.
The tingles slowly started to rise,
like two angels slithering their way up all thirty three steps of Jacob's ladder to open up the seventh seal. My gateway to heaven.
It was sensational. A euphoric feeling, I never felt that happy before. Everything that was holding me back, all the bad memories
and all the grudges I had been holding on to, did not matter anymore.
I started to think freely and act accordingly. I worked less and wrote more because money was not a priority.
The value of life became clear to me.
There I was, reborn with Christ oil.

I dwelt in that right hemisphere of my brain for three and a half months before I got thrown out of paradise for questioning myself again.
Of course I tried to force my way back but drugs only gives you a temporary pass.
Besides I can't let go of the lifestyle of the genie in my genes that likes to buy expensive jeans.
It's genius how they deceive us, or I'm just seriously delirious and my psychological awareness is just as meaningless as my nihilistic periods.
Who is really the genie; us?

Isn't it compelling how poems can affect us so emotionally?
I mean sure a picture says more than a thousand words but
watching television only tells us a certain vision.
On the other hand contracting letters must always be spelled right or else there's nothing left to make sense.
I refuse to sign a contract to make cents, although I wouldn't cross swords if the oppertunity presents itself.
Maybe I am contradicting myself but crossing words is just a hobby to me, for now atleast.
I do believe that spelling is like magic spells. We fuse words like a magnet, they either connect to our feelings or repell eachother.
It's confusing sometimes when I get inspired beacasue I'm in spired to cast spells,
yet I can only spell what I've been remotely controlled by the remotecontroll to my limited visions.
I am afraid living.
Have I Lived or have I liveD in reverse and learned to embrace the Devil?

Walking in a hallway towards the darkness,
shoulder bumping everyone,
I'm set to score.
Discoball over my head.
Meaningless rythm got me
rocking back and forth on these checkered floors.

Draining my energy,
feet are sore
but open doors like a metaphor for the furthermore.
Alcohol made my ego ignore,
I'm trying to escape the belly of the beast
crawling on all four.

I am this close
to disclose
the secret that life store,
but I impose
to enclose,
you've never seen me like this before.

So I compose
these fake flows
to you my amor,
Like a hypnos
you expose,
"love" galore.

When I was a kid I dreamed of being a star.
Not the ones we see up in the sky
more like the ones on the boulevard.
I never wanted the money or power
I just wanted to be recognized.
Growing up my interest in being rich and famous faded away beacause every celebrity seemed miserable to me.
I would rather be healthy and keep my cerebral liberty.