I can't tell whether i want to fly or ****.
Help me out. Walk up to me.
Wait, walk into me.
Turn to goo before my eyes,
slide up my nose,
flood my brain,
and rub it hard until I squirt.

Make a sausage out of me.
she screamed.

The color? I asked.
Yes. With all my colors.

Your nails pink
Hair gold
Eyes blue.

Skin?
Peel it.
She yelled.
It's torn
Tarnished.
Peel it
and make a sausage
In red.
She screamed.

I would have been
A stalker
But she loved me

I’m in the warmth of
a womb above the sun
it’s numbing, the humble light
under your thumb
it’s glowing, luminous red
in the bed, sunlight ****
I’m ******* on the moon
like bitter sweet *****
I put the craters in your dress
But I digress…oh yes
I must confess
I was aiming for your chest
in the cruelest sort of ways
but where it stays is where it stays
like las vegas and tearful days
cause no one sells until you pay
no you’re not sold until you’re paid
no you’re not golden in this trade
black from blue and blue for grey

One phonecall? Alert the public
Who would you call in a stance of conundrum in case the sky's falling down?
Desperate measures in desperate times
I carry an emergency kit with extra ink for my rhymes
And a band aid for my lips to cover up the disease they diagnosed me with;
Of Spitting up filthy ****
Labeling ill kids,
With conditions made up like myths
Deluded? Please.
Excuses are sad pleas to ensure the public's attention skips the obvious.
So I'd rather lock myself away,
And use my notebook to convey my love;
For the person I'd dedicate one last phone call to.
Lock myself away like Anne frank in the attic and write so much fire it produces sparks
the static is electric; the rush through my veins has me lost,
In the cosmic abyss of my thoughts
While I'm lit... I concoct schemes to conquer mics
If you dissect my insides with jabs, I'll retaliate with clever forensics;
Cut myself open for the world to see,
That all I'd bleed is metaphors in overdose...
Infinite similes are the catalyst to my rhythmic metamorphosis