Analytical beast I have a knowledge in my locker

The swarm screams for the author

The red then spills from the blood oath offer

Higher than extraterrestrials and their flying saucers

Universal football we kick meteors like soccer

We battle in coliseums, mediators are awkward

They fear the slanted enemies eyes and their lean postures

They find it so astounding, there movement in green pastures

Hunters become hunted, prey becomes stalkers

They seem to breathe steam and move faster

Engaging renegades will never make it easy for these *******

Thunderous parades of pain reported from the mental telecasters

Wizards from faraway lands land by spell casting

Time is forever lost but what they found is still lasting

And what Is bound is surpassing, it's an avalanche...earth smashing

The lands crashing, the world will regenerate but the swords will keep clashing.

I ***** that cold spit on this hot terrain...

My subzero degree waves smash like glaciers and make ice parades

I'm hype like I smoked that right and when left instead

I will **** you and myself I simply knife gernades

My flows bomb-tastic

When I spit, your temple sizzles from my splashed acid.

I periodically pummel phonies in masses

Reverberations reveal Reactions.

My devilish grin shows satisfaction

Am lyrically chemically unbalanced

My lyrics ripple wild with drizzles of stylish accent.

I double dribble with the sound of pistols and stick back flips..

You fiddle skittles, blow like tea kettles an kiss assess  

My classic rip will make your brain flip like gymnastic tricks

I'm gone like acid trips

This is levitation no magic trick

Verbal constipation my massive ****

My words are pinpointed so accurate

I'm there and gone I'm oxygen.

Lethal Lethal! my words are medieval...What's a church to sinners if there all evil?

Others watch as the camel dives through the eye of a needle

I spit that professor-x direct to your cerebral....am evil Knievel...I jump off my white horse into a pile of beetles my crooked style is...

Lethal...Weapon 5..tell Riggs to put the weapons high..

I call cannabis to the floor to handle this

Fingers bent back, will leave you handless

I cut the lights and blind your brain from your mental manuscript

with no Bic in hand..my words write themselves quicker than quick sand..You must be a toilet because I am The **** man

And sadly I have diarrhea...but strangely I **** hard bars...the size of pizzeria's made of bricks

Now how can you deliver a punch line with a swollen fist?

I quickly rip your lumbar-5 call it open Disc....hope your recording this...

Now watch me, Sammy Sosa, this

**** in the form of words...I'm not sure if this is appropriate...

Keep your eyes open kiddddss!!

That's how the Chinese cookie crumbles, guess that's unfortunate.

I can see the future, it's an anorexic clock your time is running thin.

Scene: You were standing in a field with lots of lovely wildflowers.
There was blood everywhere,
A gallon and a half,
(to be almost exact)
And she was pale-
Like the moon,
If you want to be cliché, if not
maybe a piece of mozzarella
Ha! (What a cheesy metaphor!)
She was Still
Still
Still
But she was not Still breathing
Her lungs were ice, you can't
Catch your breath with a frozen chest.
So there she was lying in the sun,
Absolutely and totally covered in blood
And here they come-
the butterflies.
Growing up you saw pictures
of butterflies, sitting on flowers,
you probably even learned about their life cycle.
And when you got older someone told you

Hey! Did you know butterflies drink blood too?

And maybe you did know that and maybe you didn't, but the important part is that it's true and you probably haven't put much thought into it. I mean why would you?

anyway, my point.

The butterflies come and they perch on her arms, and chest, and eyes.
They rest, and they drink, and they live just a little bit longer and soon she is absolutely covered head to toe and you can't see her pale moon face, you just have to imagine that her body is under this chaotic blob, and more of them are coming and now all of them are fighting, and you never even thought that this was possible,
and now they're hitting each other and falling and dying and you, the luckiest soul gets to watch the battle of the butterflies.

The terrible grace of beauty under pressure.

I want to write about you poetically,
But you don't deserve my time.

Numbing pain with remedies unwise
Trying to forget
the past of lies

Going through day to day life
Such a battle,
so much strife.

Climbing out of bed
whispering
"you can do it, you're not dead"

Wanting with super might
to yell and cry
managing to mumble and sigh.

Resigned to the way
life seems to be:
Struggling; a vessel of empty

But each step taken
even with the ache'n
Is another foot forward
In the direction of hope; toward.

Each day gets better
don't stumble now
lighter as a feather.

You love me in my brokenness
You hold my heart with shards of glass