Practicality is simply the way of the gun
put to the temple of a jungle,
kalidescope visions tumble and reform
thoughts become mosaics on the cross walk of subway tickets
and road maps to numerous homes
holes...youd snap your legs off for them.
pitch black devestator,have you birthed chaos threw emancipation
oh sleeper...awake and take your place next to this solider of torture
pain is watching these judas goats burn in a fernace
might as well flick your cigarette butts in for good measure.
daughters of a revolution let me blossom with you into a desiel engine conversion
clean burning,we grind our pistons to boney powdered milk
humbled
poisoned by the brawl of these auburn hills
glowing towers that rape the skyline
remind us how to feel.
intrigued by a system whos spine is gilded and shivering coins
machinery as soft as silk runs from the top of my soul
as I vomit rainbows into the oil spill of mexico.
I feel as though were a constilation of smart individuals
but then again who am I to judge
I have no javelin to hurl threw your tounge
I see no labodamies done?
no assumptions nessicary,scary sacred split second decisions in this the matrix
I want to hear your breath before I take your scalp and paint it
savage is best describing this word count.
Sleep now,or forever hold your eyes to an artifical sun.
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