I'm delusional.
But in the depths of mycalamity.
I'm sleuth in who
I trust to root through. The damaging
To make proof
Of my insanity. Dramatic vanity.
Class suit.
Education is justice of  suitable vernacular for a rhapsody.
Trust in my outward
Insecurity to do.
Exactly what my inner fabric
Has to be.
A tearing seem.
Like my tattered Jean's.
And its maddening.
Creating a complex.
In my brain.
That s patterning
After a savage dream
Of eminem becoming my
Mister "has to be"
And voices laughter
Make ask believe.
If I concieve christ is in my belly
And it's actually happening.
While my opinions are like.
Al gores rythm
Blue skys. Distressing
What's reality
While a pattern emerges
Of me never really mattering.
Like my mom.
Developing a bank account with
8 figure salary.
From a lotto ticket.
Placed in my path
screaming.
Of my brothers incapacity.
To hide his body language.
God having  the audacity.
To listen to fall out boy.
Build complexes.
****** voices to
Enrapture me
In absolute insanity
color becomes
Black and white ... contrast.
Between my opinions
And the facts I see.
Eminem. Christ. Lotto winnings
Basically is what
I believe are happening.