THIS WORLD IS NOT REAL.
 

History is the myth of how Disney became the Sith
We only can plead the fifth as to whether we exist
Meaningful support staff dream character anomaly
With seasons full of keen wrath I swing swords violently
Face full of lasers ant farms and patchwork leather sweaters
Dressed exquisite for this visit pimp tight revolver ocelot aimbot feathers
Ugh. Every thing I say is seasoned for four weathers
Ughh. Heel hook like a crook tearing tendons.
Look in the book, I’m a menace.
Still somehow the cleanest to ever craft a sentence
Pen game immense and extensive with common sense so offensive
All in for Christ never Laoedecian fences. Spelling?
James Joyce of command of voice in the written moment? Compelling.
Haha relief. Recognition that I am reading your thoughts. Telling.
The game is to be sold and not told and truth be told I’m selling.
Ego swelling just propelling the idea of showing you how smart you are
I just cited a suicided genius, ooooh edgy Easter Egg alliteration? Gold star.
I SET THE IMPOSSIBILITY BAR.

I never jest in infinite unless I want to climb a rock wall
I can speak and in a weak your stocks fall.
I can see the cause and effect of what led to the cop call
Or the subtly of orchestra sonatas inside a concert hall
Imagery amazing face to face with any of the greats not at all
I never let a plot stall and I can interface in a silent squall
Reality generation thought integration package implemented ASAP
Here to help. Here to stop reading you saying the SAME CRAP.
Ancient architecture housing out of place artifacts to be exact
Can’t swipe the chip if your Visa’s cracked on some speak a fact
Glitches in the matrix are weaponized Mandela effects
Decode program genome to leave super sleuths impressed
Hidden in me snapping necks through illusive text

Consonants sung with a moccasins tongue. A fool's gold smile
so solemn I blushed. No parity in your parody or pseudo style.

do or die. christmas eves chicken bouillon mixed up with croutons. yeah, you know why. picture framed. it's the same as confusing suicide and selfishness. who could not be helped with it, who survived the penitence. penchant for survival, the menace with a smile, attempting to be guile to accept the inner fire

Stick a fork in 'em, Kevorkian. Spoon fed torture's bliss as courtship. Kiss
a bruised mess with thorny lips and soothed breath.
Self harm's a self guard. These winces are outlets.
Embrace what's in pain. No living without it.
He a cynic? I doubt it. Sentence decisions are brimming with Faust sense.

it's that sort of reveal,
that keeps yours on their heels
better hope for a bill of clean health
if you're over the hill
death policies claim your worth for at most a quarter a mil
absent family fighting over your will at a court of appeals
it's the lockness. lockjawed to the brim, and he's seething
never thought the thought of existing would be easy
sort of affixed. sort of just breathing toward each season
wish a delorean whip could just warp me. i mean it

You mean it? Do you? A sincere desire for temporal freedom?
Have you finally grown tired of only remaining a lesion?
If it’s a point to which we’re aiming: you’re draining. But I’m not complaining.
Am I one of the cool kids now? Hopeless with no focus meager thought parading?
Too meta again, a new code in the wind, throw bows at ya kin
Take the medicine, try to withold from the sin and reload again?
What’s so difficult?

YOU NEEEEEEEEED MORE SEROTONIN is what I yell from the proverbial rooftops,
You wouldn’t impress me with: “my last meal would be Jesus the son of god lamb chops”
See I can do your hopeless gimmick even better than you and that’s not trying
Converse as a normal person be a good dad and stop all of your lying.

Historian laureates lured by allure of DeLorean lore.. I jest.
I'm just.. thrown for a loop and caught in the past.
In feuds with a future I've already lapped.
A future of loops I caught and rehashed.
Refused to regroup. I talk to my scabs.
Ruminate on ruined fates. Obsessed with the end stroke.
Epic epiloguer stepping off the edge of a cliffnote.
Can the living dead get possessed by the ghost of themselves?
I disassociate and just associate with clones I can help.
Life's a long shot, but I'll take a stab. What's the spread on my death?
This greener grass bookie's so bush league I'm hedging my bets.

Your not the worst of all possible worlds, that’s means there’s hope right?
If it leads you to seppuku, at least make sure your ropes tight
To be in touch with feelings that no human should ever articulate
It’s a blessing it’s a curse, you are cursed to never elevate.
Mock and scoff while residing in the paradox of dysthymia toxins
1. Mock God. 2. Existential angst. Why are these the only options?

Ocelot aim bot was hardcore. Wuddup OG

Angst is your remorse, recourse: your course will veer towards never after.
Desecrated corpse, pitchfork scored skin peels, hear the devil's laughter.
Mistaken as mockery, the Father's scowls to recount your apostacy,
Suicide is sacrilege, your bastard raps O.D on blasphemous hypocrisy
If elevation's sacred, karmas curse has sent you where your fate is.
Worst of all the worlds, the seventh hell is where your final stay is

Humiliating souls of venomous sages
trapped in the 9 gates of dante's playlist
random contagions mutate future ancients
you get wiped out like a massive wave hits
a passive rapist cant stand any half ass fakers
I got a rash and it's mad contagious
cough in your mask as I slash ya faces
let the blood drip on the land where masses hatred
and you'll feel the pain until your mask has faded

the disney bomb is dope and the keen reminds me of commandor keen so i fell in love straight away

the infinite drop was uber cool thanks..

the architect was very visual

glitch matrix sold me

dope rhyme man that ish was cool all syllables and structure in general all in all my ish thanks




................

aite aite check it - busa rhyme no nine for the ill nino
ima spill dreams hope done dunny i still chill dyno oh no'no
know no knowledge leaked im speaken tongue in teach
reach for the stars stretch the stench the the halls of preach
i keep juggling and bungling the names im pumpen
hip hop to jumpen jump rope slumpen
pants sagen and dragen the dragons of phantoms
im dancen without the wolves still gold answered
..

Well this started great then I worked my down through the comments
That's going to cost you 1.5 points right there for inviting chaos
Otherwise this was a dope verse and I'm still working on putting my thoughts together about it.
Welcome to the top.

there's several different levels of mental sorcery-
bottlenecks, intrusive advertising, capitalism
scandals and conformism
radical neo-marxism.
panels, shackles and tablets
but i don't get into that, i grip the cannon
i just sign a lease until death, accept it
repeat until stressed, and it'll eat at you until your egos dead

keyhole reset,
la petit mortgage; drink vino in sweats,
mon cheri amor-bidity, living's a really slow death,
existential, ephemeral signature seasons cold breath,
is it a blind or wise man that feels no regret?
need folk's acceptance, so fleeting,
i offer meaning. poeisis. they're seeking a pension.
why bother digging down to the seed and its essence,
we know. regrowth occurs if the scene is just left,
chernobyl, verse vocal, come alive, sun arise
- the ether's electric.
word to the Earth. moon and stars.
i see it's connected.

There’s a riot in my conscious I’m wry with
A lotta signs I’m neurotic and maybe I’ll just find I’m psychotic
A bevy of warnings already ashore.
A levy has formed. So many tactics I possess to absorb.
My two shrinks said that I’m warped but they ain’t met me before.
I just utilize diversion habits and sidestep their discourse
Partial session reports of my perplexing retorts
Jotting questions I’ll contest. Yet,
fret over thoughts, fret over feelings
Upset I was born. Forget and ignore.
Ready to weather whatever occurs
til I’m dead in a morgue. That’s headstrong.

Bad to the bone or just bad bones?
Cursed with getting old is just a sad song.
The red phone rings on the president’s desk
and DEFCON 5 is what needs comes next.
At least, in this fictional world
that I’ve created in my mind.
Eyes Wide Shut but I can still see the lies
that they hide right in front of our noses.
While Some call it “Hollywood magic”,
“make-believe”, or “hocus pocus”,
the noble occultist knows it’s more than just that.
It’s predictive programming controlling the lab rats.
A backstabbing Brutus using Judas as a decoy,
as Cass goes to war with Lemoria and ancient Troy.
Deployed from the void that gave birth to the Hollow Earth—
a comet burst through the firmament, then dispersed in the dirt,
to leave the Anti-Life Equation preserved in the turf—
in the language of a god from a solipsistic church.

Stop it. All of you.
Not shit. Not a clue.
Optics. Diamond hue.
Opiates. Masses.
Holy shit.
Captions.

Fractions.
Fractals. Fragile rock.
Actions.
Examples.
Laughing stock.

See?

Why would you want to damn me?
You busy beaver. Pussies can’t stand me.
I beat them up
I’m sneaking up
I’ve peeped yo bluff
I eat you up
Attack on Titan when I’m writing so please prepare.
All I do is “catchphrase” like this I fair.

Dope