working tireless, tryna acquire
a piece of pie, no peace of mind-
it was swallowed up by a single line
still burning fire, still drowning water,
still killing time,
still seeing gods in the devils signs
not in spirit-
we communicate pharmaceutically
they hide in my reflection,
quietly abusing me
a voice comes back, irregularly, unusually-
preaching whispers, rehearsing a bad eulogy
shooting stars with delusions of trajectory,
searching for answers, children of the ecstasy
a dab of psilocybin, diddled *****
a dim hymn rising
a rare sight, a good time with perfect timing-
a moon and sun, both dying to be aligning
stuck at odds, tryna even out the writing
the syllable count drowns out the defining
diminish not the depths of the man,
dead yet divining,
drinking from a bottle constantly filled with lighting