snuff buffed undefined and ready to fly
my flow doesn't grind it just slips on by
and it begins with the questioning of the reality you just let slip on by
who where what and how does that effect me and why?
don't i Just get high, let loose, fight and die, cry sleep and bristle with gist instead of murmuring bliss so murr moan and hiss just don't do the dos and forget the donts of wont's cants and jokes...

break off from reality with an unconscious slip of the wrist, a twist, and the dissolution of the cyst~

as you plunge turn burn and close the hole reaction based on an intimately known causeaction of impulse
as your temples flare and a monk breaks into hedonistic despair because he cries dreams of white lies of doom and flies into the surreal by gonz, tongs prongs bongs and song
and he flies straight through concerned only with the destination, an accidental indignation because when he flaps his wings and realizes that he can't sing he brings about the stop drop and gravitational flop we all know as a prop cropped from hypnotic rock, talk and the burning flips of trips, that unending gist as we miss what we could never find and draw the line between mine and time

the it that burns only turns and sleeps as it sleeps and turns waiting for the depth of the deep- sleep and shamonic talk of rocks and sheep creeps outwardly as the alarm clock blasts a treat for those who aren't ready to keep their souls because their lives are full of holes. and so it goes.

blasting truths encumbered through fallen dignities with a deep peripheral reap of a psychotif reef, we flow as the ship goes. an F for those who don't know the sound, it goes round and breaks off into tangents of hope created to elope but bring together those with hope for ropes

god is here with me now waiting to talk to 'you' who forge false dreams of boats, ropes, ladders and slopes.
indiginant mopes moans and pleas
and he sees what he thinks is a way out but what i said is still true if only
you'd let it out too

boundaries are made, created and dissipated fellated cradled and spun, undone fun with a gelatinous twist, don't you wish autonomy hadn't a twist as you smoke pipe dreams forged in the fanatic cradling of bliss.. but i digress as you get the gist so I'll bless and dress the berated recrumbling of diabolic prose that shows not more than it knows

open up let through see and be heard and me ill be here waiting for he who knows not how it flows but it goes and as it rose through endless prose autonomous holes were rolled into a chasm of lols joes hoes and bros, memetical prose

fuck how she blows...

so then:

be it serrated, bladed, fated, faded, created or shown all i know is a moan, an unending scream of do's don'ts and holes in the cheese, please believe: this isn't a pet peeve but the autonomic expression of shows, the memetical prose. fuck how she blows.




welcome to our head


I don't think this shit flows consistently enough. Maybe that was a point. 2nd Paraphrase can't stay low worth a motherfucker either. It wasn't so bad when I first wrote it, hard to get it in tune again.

What's it about? I'll tell you later if you tell me what you think it's about first, maybe it works. Pretentious mess.

edit: at least say it sucks or something, I need to know these things too :(