Insomnimeditation
1. You're determined to stay awake for as long as possible.
the mind’s will vs. body - the Genesis of madness
sleep!
is the Cousin of Death, a questionable fallacy
adderall and lunesta: tonight’s quest for immortality
my endocrine reality of sensory depravity.
no medical analogies, those won’t fit in this stupid verse
people expect me to explore the infinite universe
my signature muse at work, Newtonian physics
if Life’s a Bitch, I can make her my Utopian Mistress.
hope is a gimmick. ha! that doesn’t fit the progression
but the rhyme does, besides I like to switch the direction
life’s indifference: a lesson encapsulated in verse;
shit just happens how it wants to, that’s the way that it works
the past is made up, it hurts to have to face its assertions -
we’d rather buy as much silver lining as imagination can purchase.
I’m sleepy. but they know that, since it’s the topic selected.
but do they know how I wrote this? think the audience gets it?
an improbable method that all of the best did
lose yourself as someone else - torches to keep the darkest halls of your head lit.
I know myself better when I step into character
see my life portrayed in an objectivist narrative.
Perfection is there to give mankind a partial target
the coquetry of hope: exceed the schemes that Eden’s Garden started
I’m Marlon Brando with the candles lit, piecing together shards of art since
the aorta of Apocalypse is Now the Heart of Darkness.
dope right? go try interpret those lines, scholars.
Whose world is it? So mine, the Earth gets no time altered
my whole mind’s a goldmine proper, but I keep yawning, perhaps I’m
too sleepy, I’ll make some green tea. Pause it for Halftime.
***
second wind at 3am, stretch your legs and take a stroll
down Memory Lane - control the pieces of your past and make it whole.
open that lazy skull, let nostalgia flow from brain and soul
to the riverbank of pages until your verbal blade is dull
My one love? these lyrics. shit is music to me.
since adolescence this has always been my truest reprieve
writing’s how I’ve maneuvered through what’s proof or belief
how I reconcile curiosities with the moods on my sleeve
how foolish, to be captive to the facets of neuroses
like how right now I’m actively packing keef to relax while I smoke weed
I’m the master of what I don’t need, but when I’m aligning rhymes
I always tell myself it’s just this one time for my mind, one time...
so what do I Represent? shit, It ain’t Hard to Tell
I’m that could’ve been stupid kid at Harvard/Yale
the shadow of my martyred self, a typical hypocrite
aka “human” for those who don't resist being into it
peripheral instruments puncture rooms of my psyche
the mystical, dimly-lit tumors that light needs
what I mean, is darkness gets mislabeled as cowardly
but without it we wouldn’t see stars or know our place in the galaxy
thermodynamically it implies a terminal lack of heat
metaphorically, it’s a corpse to be animated with veracity.
did this make sense to you? sorry, that’s the way that it works
the meanderings of life, encapsulated in verse
things don’t make sense, whether you’re awake or asleep
or somewhere between...
20 some years in a night, time to take Illmatic off of repeat.