My Pen Drippings... (...I'm Sorry...)

Another day to make shame fade before day…

the light shines a little brighter but is it enough to ease the suffering from past mishaps and shitty circumstance?

Time my only friend now... letting the embers die and the passion cool... the memories fade as new news, new drama, and busy bee blunders of the human race continue to ebb away at my own misfortune...

My eye lids close to the still dark shadows of my thoughts as they tumble across my heart like crowns of thorns... blowing breezily across the icy remains of my good intentions. Sinful living grinding like gravel across any vision I had of simple living...

Blinding me to the reality of my own personal tragedy... a book I write myself... a mental diatribe I'm living by right now...

how utterly ironic how an intelligent chaotic destroys himself with the neurotic impulses of an insecure heart…

...didn't I listen? Haven't I studied?...

...Should I not understand the suffering I place myself in...

remove the mask of the executioner only to discover the task was dealt by my hands gazing at the mirror of past I see the missteps I chose to take off the path…

why do I understand but tap out to the pain, the anger, the shifting rage of my turned over page… is it not the same as the teachings that god gave...

...I'm a hypocrite...

...self sacrifice on the alter of ego I hurt...

...But... Destroy... Only... Me...

tearing out my own heart I place it on top of old photos, dusty memories, and forgotten storm clouds the haze of the profound obscures my hindsight like ear plugs for sound.

Cold empty nothing in the pit of my stomach... something lingers in the chilly night time... wanting to tear my sanity away from me...

Mistakes to make a martyr of good intentions for the sake of fate I won't try and relate to suicidal bait but I just can't shake it...

These feelings of regret, of remorse, of recourse for another morsel of smiles faked and forced... My Pen Drippings Dipped In Blood beating its last course as I write the words dressed in red...

...And I'm Sorry...

...I'm Sorry...

...I'm Sorry...

GET OFF!!!

I'm unapproachable, mentally poached, get coached or get run over by my metaphorical roller coaster

like burnt toast I'm as dry as Arizona coast, while Quenching the Thirst of Life like rope around a throat and no I won’t choke I go for broke by picking a fight with the written language exacerbating my Problems in Pronunciation

bitch this wasn't a misprint!

just A Whole Bag of Swagg for an entire nation... This is my proclamation... I'm makin'... like a remote control... I'm changin' stations… turn up the volume just to hear you hatin'... I'm on Top Of Reality Mountain... you bitches free basin'...

and I don't know what you may have heard about me... but I'm Swinging on an Empty Vine within' the bowels of my insanity

by Singing with the Wind to the beat of my personal history... By allowing my purpose to be a Burmuda Try-Angle design that I can never see

because I'm like A Heart without Blood a beat with no future my lines remain a testament to nature over nurture

I maintain my hatred of all Saints of Sin... profit from the living while still expectin' heaven… just Another Sexual Perspective... a perversion of the eclectic... I can't believe they let them... get away with their moletestin... leaving me second guessin these holy water blessin's... leaving me to question these red lettered lessons...

...This is the part where my thoughts break down... left to rot in silence when no one else is around... let me fill the void of your soul like circus clowns… when they are Up To No Good…

Don’t fuck with me I'm psycho... performing drive by's on unicycles while drinking Nyquil... that’s just how I roll... and when I lose control... Chinese calculus couldn’t calculate the death toll... and even though revenge is a dish best served cold... its my greatest wish to give it back to you 10 fold

I attack you with a metaphor... in order to defeat you in my school of thought... I'd start with the ABC's and move on to building blocks... psychopathic criminal bombing preschools of rot taking out all of you sitting under one roof you got caught

just calm down…

and give my lines a fair shot to make your body rock...

like a lyrical dragon spittin fire hotter than wasabi sauce... I'll send you your w2... Mother fucker I'M the boss that you wouldn't wanna cross... and if you think you might get sick… just take your lip from the end of my bic and GET OFF