Christ Rules Everything Around Me
C.R.E.A.M
Keep the Faith
Grace upon Grace falls

Let them fuccbois come
Ahem,
We call'em chicken where I'm from
Home of tha guerrillas because they the reallus
Goin harda than the Cannibal Holocaust thrilla
I'm a Jigga from the Van Isle Villa
Of Nanaimo, I give props to Hova, tho
When I say Jigga I mean a Jewish *****
Though you may say I'm whack
Because my skin ain't black
I ain't racist when His love be my basis
Life's quaint outside of time, hyperboelic stasis
See this wordplay is my forté go figure
These Psychedelic flows are my signature
I am Holy at One with the Inner Nature
Skin young drapping over a soul more mature
I hope that you're taping
This flow so yo' can be sho'
Of the Good Lo' Jesus' divinity
Drink of His waters and He might make a saint of thee
Gettin drunk off His waters and you might just see three of me
You know I pray to the Father you don't greet me as deity G
Do not mistake what you see as me for purity
Only the Christ is sinless amen that is my only surety
Lord forgive any vanity

Christ Rules Everything Around Me
C.R.E.A.M
Keep the Faith
Grace upon Grace falls

Outside the white walls, symmetrical pillars, and broken windows do I find solemn within these saints and sinners and colorful people trudging down the hallways of unwashed history and flaunting peso bills all over the skies of painted jazz

The one that is running to the bottom of the staircase holding a box of cigarettes and a mouth full of curses- striding all over the barlights of blissful BGC and numbing taste of bitter alcohol in Taft- wandering on the streets of neon traffic lights and a plentiful of terrible people.

The one that is contemplating heavy metal (!) and bring suitcase for a living-walking faster than a madman of a classic 1980’s horror flick but talking like a dead man, grudging and grumbling his collar, mentally inspecting his fat books and depressing academic memories, calling on the birds of personified freedom weeping beyond his words and scratching his head with that awful haircut looking for a blessed be redemption.

The one that is like Sheila, hands on the wheels with glass-plated stilettos and terrible taste in music, bruise and battered chin, wounded shin and complete with broken dreams –flattered her way up to the pool of stingy bureaucrats and hateful hateful daughters of sacredly publicized personalities continuously eating her tossed salad and puffing marijuana to suffice her thoughts off dull memories and empty void of a brain’s one’s gaped hole.
She can’t be bothered to find peace in her ******* because one must work hard to the top of the social strata!

The one that is gifted with prophesy and hypocrisy of pretentious façade writing broken poetry- creating **** films for a living while dressed in his chelsea boots and pain-bearing insecurities of beautiful nightmares and leather bags of no significant purpose but to seem delight on all these saints and sinners and colorful people

Spilled out of my random thoughts and shapeless blossoming rainbows of emotions and grievances in all things I find goodness on the beautiful surface of that white wall and stubborn-looking beardless hip-hop heads with overpriced headphones and greasy Drake shirts and magnificent bomber jackets from angelheaded fuccbois with mom-washed jeans skinny trousers left them much to be desired and compounded inside the school of design and arts.

Oh how sweet November is feeding on my Christmas soul

The bells, the lights, and the smiles all ready to be consumed

The gardens of flowers and the rampant streets passing by in the cold nights of November- how alcohol affects the minds we speak

I found myself in front of the distant stars in a thursday night of reckless daydreaming on how joyful the celebration is

the youth embracement, society faded, and the fuccbois are screaming "long live the alcohol!" and the celebration bleeds out on its own so-

I went outside and saw the girl who might have fixed my world- "How small and joyful world our lives is" I say- and she left with disgust

Oh how sweet November is feeding on my Christmas soul

I ******* everyday
Everyday
Not at work though.usually at night
I watch movies too.
I should start reading again.
I have a really ****** life which persists despite my best efforts to improve.
Systemic poverty and growing up in a household full of ******. I won't make excuses. I just despise you ******* ***** who had everything given to you on a pladder and are still insufferable with your excuses. Fuccbois and Sarahs and Emma's, decay on the excrement pile.
I will succeed , if success is contentedness. Pain can only last so lo g before it becomes your normal.
If your whole life is having your intestines slowly wrung from your body and your testicles desheathed eventually things will equalize.
Hell isn't a state of mind, it's just a nightmare that thinks it's a dream , and I woke up too soon, you'll be there too and with a certain someone