[Mr. J]

I'm drowning in the Titanic's corridors
down in Atlantis just to explore some more
discussing societies hatred in philosophical pursuit
disgusted sobriety my minds primitive perfume..
a scent that draws attention to the thought
a sense that awes when demolition is sought
I rot in a grave & twist when my name is misused
scrape the disdain off with a molotov tissue...
when the flames rip through I take a sip to quench my thirst
leaving my print everywhere for a shot at detective work..
crumbs that lead to me back like Hanzel & Gretel
that just a moment to advance & a chance to upset you
I'm on edge, living in the past tense...
more lies to make the next line make sense
boredom, boredom, it's all boredom at the end of day