JOURNAL ENTRY: 4/28/14
This is the perfect topic. It explains me perfectly.
I'm highly ranked.
I'm amazing. words are clean. my over-workings chronic.
flow is so atomic. and my cadence? certainly.
everything i wrote is flawless
any strain of lava zomb' creates is flowing hotness.
it's like gauge unloaded on em'
insane, atonement. godly.
some say a faint robotic, but I complain Im hercules.
I've mastered greatness. heard of me?
calculating emerging schemes. and every burst is toxin
I NEVER RELAX. I'll have you salivating. awesome
i'll activate a wordy scene through any range of optics
and relaxing's great, im busting through the ranks of any college
enunciating lanky rhymage, with slants you couldnt pay to write it
raced the hare & turtle, blindfolded, eyes closed
and still maintained the speed at supersonic
-end log
JOURNAL ENTRY: 4/29/14
and I mean its a bit ironic, the hare and the tortoise
a red herring for short. The phrase is just gorgeous
it was a saying with a page of components
saying in quotient, that you should still remain focused
even if you heavily outrank your opponent
Oh wow, my mouth faded a moment. Oh well.
I'm 2-0. I'll have everybody riding on my coattails. haha
JOURNAL ENTRY 4/30/14
Just Writes verse was fucking dope. Damn.
- end log
JOURNAL ENTRY: 5/2/14
Look, I didn't mean to be cocky, i really am sorry
i reigned supreme as a god, and mocked you as weakling. youre hardly
but in the evenings, i worry. but not about the league
i worry about me. I worry about worrying. I worry about dreams
if you don't win, zombie, they'll crucifix you
i'll just throw whatever together & pretend I couldnt get to it
im trying to relax. but i've gotten to a point
people expect stuff in my verses, and the work to be had
if hardwork beats talent, i guess hardworks my dad.
where all my talent seems superficial
my mind creates scenarios where i am caved
sometimes... I don't want to be highly ranked
- end log
JOURNAL ENTRY 5/3/14
but they don't profoundly understand how it is. absolutely no one does
if skill was a fountain jug, my will to give is the water floating out of it
pain's read out in scars, each day thuds intense mid-drift
where metaphors, melts my core, & kisses. my blood with red lipstick
and as I'm pacing, I could list the feelings that comes with greatness:
various nobs of patience, periods of ostentation
serious numbed sensation; fear to become complacent
nullify the nascent, buzzing. you could hear the drumming bass in
everything. my morning coffee doesnt even wake me up
as i'm unveiling scuffs. and morph into amorphous zombie
no one sees the work i emanate within
just end results when this savior shows up
relationships are a tease, and take a shit
because i'm flirting with failure so much
you're now witnessing the fluctuating collapse of my frustrating debacle
bankrupting my patience, as all you judge me and toggle your punctuating bravado
my mind equates it like math, if you add to what you have you're greater than that
but the faces that grasp at you, are obstacles that wait to subtract your molecules
cause the one thing you can't do when you're highly ranked is relax
--
to have faith is to have trust. and promise yourself to the water instead
when you doggypaddle you don't clutch hold of the water or you'll sink to its depths
instead you relax, and float. a vagabond. - a quote by alan watts
-end log
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