Darth Yoda
07-18-2013, 02:20 AM
*~*~enjoy~*~*
Rule of thumb is nothing, the sooner the better, rules are made to be broken, so I'll smash your thumbs in with a ruler. We could talk awhile. In the darkest aisle of your heart. Give it a while, if not, shoot. Give them an inch, and they’ll walk a mile in your shoes. But not the mile; you’re obtuse. I’m talking the mile that’s acute. On the surface it’s mischief. I swam against the currents in my current situation; I live this. No purpose, and if bridge fits, then burn it. It’s as if, It’s all in sync, cause this misfits discouraged. Diminutive. How can you possibly think of the end? Fuck, I accidentally cut myself, I mean of course, if you’re into that shit. THEN LET’S GET INTO THAT SHIT. Every metaphor sculpted to precision. To metamorph into visions, of a better story for children. I’m the damsel in my own adaptation, where my face’s statue emblazoned on a mantle, so brazen you could take a snapshot of the haven and slap it on to a painting. I get so lost in a writing, that the flashes of lightning travel through the brasswire, and the graphite in the pencil singes against the paper so striking that it’ll catch-fire. I wish fire could catch me. But even with capped knees, I move across land tiles at max speed. Wrecking ball, catch the ebb and flow of, death above the metronome cusps. You’re left alone. Buzzed. Catch my drift? If you don’t, you could unveil my skeleton man, before a second goes, I evict the ghost from your body and you feel 21 grams escape your soul. I get so lonely, I clutch my pistol gun and start sexting myself, and delete the initial one I sent, so it looks like someones sexting my self. I’m not trying to be funny, I’m trying to be bloody. My bluntly telling you that I’m a mummy. These bandages are on the inside. And the gauze I’m wrapped up in, has a dab of additives added on that tip, why’s I act like I’m deprived. If you had one word to describe…My pencil tip ends’, a pathogen that detects a mental wave of electrical metal. When I press lips to my flesh-wounds I could speak several different languages. It’s the kiss that affects the level of connection the treble is in balances. Mental midst in action, try an observation, while I innately handle the next ten steps of our conversation. Russian roulette with a Cuban revolver. Musket on deck, hakuna matata, You couldn’t draw in, I love the blood gushing that rushes the medulla onblogota, when the blood banquet and dust sets. Fung schway, having a fun day, the last 5 minutes of your life recorded on fucking cassette.
Zombie
The mused ends we harbor, the counter-intuitive monster
Encountered the punitive damages
From the mouths, that devour us
The two ships we’re drowning through our loose lip empowerment
Let’s be truthfully honest, it’s all stupid regardless
Motionless, hearing, you. like ‘borinnnnng’ so arrogant,
a trip to the pub is more of a social experiment. Scoring
a mention or two with your local acquaintance. More so I’m patient
Study the angles presented. Through an angular axis, on the plane I’m accessing
Write a page or two, whole piece; about how you stare at your phone screen while saying a sentence, then predict your demeanor by subtle facial expression
Wish you civilians would give me a chance
instead of writing me off
I try to think so brilliantly that
the type of excitement gets me slightly pissed. God
It’s tiring. Caution. The time has been sung.
Line after lion, song after sun
Decipher the choir, despite all it’s done
Don’t have road to speak, so license the tongue.
And if I run out of warpaint, I like biting my tongue till it pours
I’m like this, cause, drugs, is not something I seek
You’re transparent. Take the presumption I’m tongue’in-in-cheek
Over now. Get over selves. The silver lining soaks blood
Couldn’t picture life as old, mum, I think I’ll die before young
To think my niceness grows numb, and all infliction lies in your hub?
A pity, my, I hope some, the bitterness you hold on
Shifts nonexistent, nope, none, all your shit is melting, slow, spud
Get used to living, oh, what? I mean get used to livid, cold fucks
The proof is in the pudd- ugh, the PROOF is in your old buds
The hooligans the ones you used to think were low scum
Now who’s the victim, oh, duh, only you can feel alone, hon
But didn’t you just think, that MOST of the reason why I’m so strung
Was because before LOVE I fell victim to the doldrums
Sweltering, trickle. Posthumous. You’re so dumb
The hollowtip sphinx versus, the common leaded slow slug
Your Superman was super, even after Luthor got the whole hunch
To think, my kissing. slow, touch, is just an itch, a glow bug?
Not as demented as you think, a product of society
Society livin’ off of me, sipping off the bottles of sobriety
Influencing my keester. The bickering has got to me
Violin I'm fiddling, so violent....
Rule of thumb is nothing, the sooner the better, rules are made to be broken, so I'll smash your thumbs in with a ruler. We could talk awhile. In the darkest aisle of your heart. Give it a while, if not, shoot. Give them an inch, and they’ll walk a mile in your shoes. But not the mile; you’re obtuse. I’m talking the mile that’s acute. On the surface it’s mischief. I swam against the currents in my current situation; I live this. No purpose, and if bridge fits, then burn it. It’s as if, It’s all in sync, cause this misfits discouraged. Diminutive. How can you possibly think of the end? Fuck, I accidentally cut myself, I mean of course, if you’re into that shit. THEN LET’S GET INTO THAT SHIT. Every metaphor sculpted to precision. To metamorph into visions, of a better story for children. I’m the damsel in my own adaptation, where my face’s statue emblazoned on a mantle, so brazen you could take a snapshot of the haven and slap it on to a painting. I get so lost in a writing, that the flashes of lightning travel through the brasswire, and the graphite in the pencil singes against the paper so striking that it’ll catch-fire. I wish fire could catch me. But even with capped knees, I move across land tiles at max speed. Wrecking ball, catch the ebb and flow of, death above the metronome cusps. You’re left alone. Buzzed. Catch my drift? If you don’t, you could unveil my skeleton man, before a second goes, I evict the ghost from your body and you feel 21 grams escape your soul. I get so lonely, I clutch my pistol gun and start sexting myself, and delete the initial one I sent, so it looks like someones sexting my self. I’m not trying to be funny, I’m trying to be bloody. My bluntly telling you that I’m a mummy. These bandages are on the inside. And the gauze I’m wrapped up in, has a dab of additives added on that tip, why’s I act like I’m deprived. If you had one word to describe…My pencil tip ends’, a pathogen that detects a mental wave of electrical metal. When I press lips to my flesh-wounds I could speak several different languages. It’s the kiss that affects the level of connection the treble is in balances. Mental midst in action, try an observation, while I innately handle the next ten steps of our conversation. Russian roulette with a Cuban revolver. Musket on deck, hakuna matata, You couldn’t draw in, I love the blood gushing that rushes the medulla onblogota, when the blood banquet and dust sets. Fung schway, having a fun day, the last 5 minutes of your life recorded on fucking cassette.
Zombie
The mused ends we harbor, the counter-intuitive monster
Encountered the punitive damages
From the mouths, that devour us
The two ships we’re drowning through our loose lip empowerment
Let’s be truthfully honest, it’s all stupid regardless
Motionless, hearing, you. like ‘borinnnnng’ so arrogant,
a trip to the pub is more of a social experiment. Scoring
a mention or two with your local acquaintance. More so I’m patient
Study the angles presented. Through an angular axis, on the plane I’m accessing
Write a page or two, whole piece; about how you stare at your phone screen while saying a sentence, then predict your demeanor by subtle facial expression
Wish you civilians would give me a chance
instead of writing me off
I try to think so brilliantly that
the type of excitement gets me slightly pissed. God
It’s tiring. Caution. The time has been sung.
Line after lion, song after sun
Decipher the choir, despite all it’s done
Don’t have road to speak, so license the tongue.
And if I run out of warpaint, I like biting my tongue till it pours
I’m like this, cause, drugs, is not something I seek
You’re transparent. Take the presumption I’m tongue’in-in-cheek
Over now. Get over selves. The silver lining soaks blood
Couldn’t picture life as old, mum, I think I’ll die before young
To think my niceness grows numb, and all infliction lies in your hub?
A pity, my, I hope some, the bitterness you hold on
Shifts nonexistent, nope, none, all your shit is melting, slow, spud
Get used to living, oh, what? I mean get used to livid, cold fucks
The proof is in the pudd- ugh, the PROOF is in your old buds
The hooligans the ones you used to think were low scum
Now who’s the victim, oh, duh, only you can feel alone, hon
But didn’t you just think, that MOST of the reason why I’m so strung
Was because before LOVE I fell victim to the doldrums
Sweltering, trickle. Posthumous. You’re so dumb
The hollowtip sphinx versus, the common leaded slow slug
Your Superman was super, even after Luthor got the whole hunch
To think, my kissing. slow, touch, is just an itch, a glow bug?
Not as demented as you think, a product of society
Society livin’ off of me, sipping off the bottles of sobriety
Influencing my keester. The bickering has got to me
Violin I'm fiddling, so violent....