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Old 04-21-2013, 10:20 AM   #1
Geno
White Earl
 
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Join Date: Jan 2013
Location: Philly Cat.
Posts: 12,324
Battle Record: 10-15

Accomplishments
- Open Mic HOF (4x)

Champed
- Netcees Writers League
- Write Week I
- Write Week 8

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Default The Boiling Point.

I remember the days, young scrap, never restrained
When the next drunken high was all gen could obtain
Bending the shapes, wide awake, amphetamine laced
Up for days, halucinate, is what's ahead of me fake
Is it figments of imagination, or the enemies face
in my peripheral, the distant pools of entities play
Electrically brain dead, need rest for today, chemically gone
Somethings medically wrong with a man whos devils can talk
And sing sweet sexual songs, the romance never disrupts
Forever in love, the back burner, written letters in dust
Where the memories tucked, fuck, can't shake what I feel
Surreal, something deep inside can't wait to reveal
The hatred was sealed, pinned, but its patience is thin
It quips, through techtonic plates in my limbs
The great escapist, the sins, the very evil I harbor
The boiling point, the fucking fever, the heartburn
The wrong turn, the alcohol, the heroin, the ounce of raw
The ball in my possession, its the call, its omnipresence
Its the loss of all control, its the cause of my depression
Black intentions, penance, failures of my abstinences
Phone is filled with bad connections, plastic friendships
Baltimore, the path, the trenches, fighting it...
Been so fucking shut down, my last resort was writing this
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