I sip outta this glass chalice
seeing fragments of thoughts in the counter balance
rally these malice hearts in patterns of tramp stamps along magnefiecence
some call it shelter,I call it promise and hope of limitless
talent
back out in this red world full of falicy,
tragic.
I only have the capicity to fathom masterpeices.
preach to street brats with bleech in their anal cavity
prophicies which point to how WE
operate,disorientate...such great faith fate has graced upon
each
move in unison,found is common ground amongst the weeds
leave not death upon
conception
or life
becomes breif