[Certain]

I'm a blackbird singing. You're a bassoon-playing buffoon
who couldn't bloom in the concrete crack's dirt inches.
Plying a toon. Watching a tool. Yellow-bellied everything.
Peddle bennies, sell and swing. Smell the melting wedding rings.
I'm your pusher. You're nearing a cliff, and you might fall.
Find a cushion, then kneel onto it and lick my balls.
The ultimate scenario. My hands don't tremble as they crush the keys.
I'm exploring hidden temples hid by brush and trees. Enter without touching leaves.
Dismember you and crush your dreams. You'll never be in love again.
Severed wings, bicuspid bends. Meant to leave but fucked instead.
Bend so deep, I touch the end. Corner store. Boys in backstreets.
Brian nicked the tip of a J. Kevlar clips, that's how we pack heat.
Thousand stacks meet. Pounds and cash. You're green with penis envy.
I choose the funhouse mirror, but your seeded dreams are tempting.