happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing i know
 

write sober, edit drunk;
yet why even distinguish between the two states of mind
when they combine?
purported sobriety is merely intoxication
with the oscillating false paradigm of reality
thus if three addicts see
each other simultaneously in the eye is it pineal?
it's real if you know yourself;
such is the law of solipsism
but knowing what it isn't
is not mutually exclusive to knowing what is, true.
i've got issues you can't picture, trust.
find scar tissue that i wish to cut.
in the windiest gust my sword-arm stiffens up
and i can't piss enough.
i'm lit. i'm love. i'm it, i'm drugs;
salvador's matador pushing the crimson lips apart
for art imitates life limitates heart in the indifferent
quasar of your strained insistent existence.
talk. i'll fain to listen.
feign fibbing angel inveigle whispers
but mere mellifluous honeyed words
coaxing your coquettish tongue
to twist 'til it's lost its flavour spun
around your cerebrum
waiting for occam's razor to undo the occult favour.
but you give yourself. you do.
every spent soul imbued
with self-loathing,
sense soaked in dew
from the previous evening's aqueous breathing.
i’m actually leaving: in your hands, take my whole life,
blow thrice for luck and throw dice
– i’m fucked... but i’m alright.
just tryna find a raison d’etre,
or reason to better… myself or simply reason! unfetter
the chains of thought and ease all the pressure
obsessed with constancy in transient, seasonal weather.
the air’s winter, my hair’s thinner,
stare mirrors out as crisp breath blasts
obscure intent glass.
yet i’ve a cold dram of oban
– word to an old man’s brandy
rubbing gums on another son
he wouldn’t love but his old hands did marry.
writing’s cathartic as cliche as night is to darkness.
my life’s in a harness: wife’s trying to harvest
a slice of what’s most ripe in my garden
but ardently i can’t let crackling carnal
energy discharge anywhere else when my eyes start to target
thus the primacy of lust must exhibit sovereignty
over my armoury’s lot - would i rather be unarmed?
probably not. honestly? i’m not honest. i’m not.
refuse to acknowledge a sneeze if my sinuses popped.
deceive myself with half-truths that i’ve tied into knots
weaving a cryptic triptych till the tripartite decides the time is to rot.
the only chime of the clock to adhere to
is your own defining tick-tock, here… right in this spot, yea
- and i’m bundling all mine into five-minute slots.
but i ain’t tryna sign right on the dot
with the same pen that wrote these letters.
i am the ebb and the flow together,
the cleft and the whole letting the world know
that you are a part of all that you have met,
all that you are yet to see.
just let it breathe.

Fuckin solid man. You have areally "mattar of fact" style of writing that i find unique to itself. Your shit flows but it doesnt. Idk. If i had to relate it with an artist. And i ate the person im gonna name but thats neither here nor there and take any offense to that. This is the onoy person atm i can think of whos audio reminds me of ur text when i read it.

But ya.. It reminds me of tyler the creator for some reason. The way he sounds is how i read your shit lmao. Anyway i thought this was dope. Pretty raw vocab and vicious syllable play. Good stuff

wow that sucks that u 8 the person u almost never named fucka idiyote

Gimmick doesn't get old to you?

@enj I'll reply to this I just had to ask.

shut up nyc

i'm not aero bb i just posted like him writing wise on facebook a couple times which caused u to think im him

lol

thanks, guys.

the flow of the last seven comments was entertaining.

aero - def not nyc

can confirm.

yeah this was def a solid piece, creativity off the charts! well done

This is raw compare to your other verses
There's dope vocabularies
When I read this blow my mind because them bars spectacular Keep doing ya thing!

one more time.

i won't up this again.

I know you're more of a live performance, spoken word type of writer, than you are a run-of-mill textcee. Thus, I can easily see how your rhythmic inners translate off the page and on to the stage. Some of the above is a little baffling and I'm still mediating on the third-eye part, but all in all, I dig it.

The word "solipsism" alone expressed everything you just said. But, I suppose that was kind of the point, huh? Anyway, existential themes are sort of my bread and butter, so now you have my full attention.

Facts.

You're flow is spotless and fluent and your shredded imagery is artfully rendered. The exact meaning over your content is ponderous, but in a fascinating way. I can probably decoded its nherent purpose, but I'll have to look closer than I am now in order to do so.

Soooo deceit and trickery perpetrated via divine intervention? Got it. However, is there an underlying metaphor beyond just that? I assume that there must be.
But. Hmmmm. Idk. In any case, I'm digging how you're bending the words and their syllables to your will. The vocabulary, although dense, adds an extra level of enjoyment to the read as well.

Slick transitional wordplay. I thought you were clever in the way you streamlined the water element into a functional component that fits well within the boubds of your concept.

Lol you define the words you're using while you're actually using them. Pretty cool.

Enjoyed this, perhaps a lil lengthy given it's rather dense material. Basically every bar invites to contemplation. Still, I found the untraditional phrasing quite refreshing.

Finally got to read this more thoroughly. The title alone is already quite intriguing, and I appreciate the layered, overarching themes and tone of a certain, almost tangible voidness and rumination here. At least that's how I read it to a certain degree. As Self already stated, your lines usually carry a fascinating level of depth beyond the mere metaphorical value. The direct language you employ aids in creating a balance between the lines. I also enjoyed the recurring 'anatomy' references, to put it bluntly. The pineal reference was highly original and interesting in that aspect as well. 'Sense soaked in dew' and 'writing's cathartic' were one of my favourite parts. There was a subtle equilibrium of very powerful moments, such as the 'i'm actually leaving: in your hands, take my whole life' segment and some more prosaic tendencies, like the 'refuse to acknowledge' segment towards the end, which ultimately created the feeling and reality of depth. Schemes were unconventional. I enjoyed this.

@ACTIVATE SELF thanks for the feed of late.
@Concrete it's long for me, too. i tend to write in shorter bursts.
@Alice appreciate your close reading.

i wrote this with a weird mix of florid and blunt - i'm not sure where i was at the time.

You've always been one of my favorite rhymers here, you know this...this was nice...vocabulary was good & your flow really kicks faces in where SELF quoted, I dug it man.

Stay dope my friend.