[mayniuhh]

This Seed


Mists, collected as precious
Via cyclonic wind,
expel In flailing collisions, against
Another of the 1 (simpl' as reflections)
Until the crystalish
Drifts upon an argument
Between nativity and home
To being.

Seeded.

Now, pic being Peece,
City of seas
with every beach
And every free,
And each belief in the land.
Weapons, offensive tactics
Damaging as knuckle sandwich meat
'Magine needing to balance,
Now,
Imagine this
Battle ship upon your nose
Without a will, testament
Or even just permission to tip.

Imagine learning that 90
Of a thousand would survive it;
Blubbery, underskin
T'was a hunt until we fined it.

Until the mist finds,
Subconsciously, drifts by
Feeds And Nurtures this seed,
it's just...
Sun as potential:
Fucking Limitless.

Peece ascended to the,
image Of Heaven Bitch;
that tep, delicate place
that all the dogs go.

Now,
Picture mists absorbing men
and
expelling the extra elements
to pointed fine a thief
and,
fortify the seed.


Angled offering
of dusk, pale and darkening,
This was my vantage, I say That
I saw it. Each fleet's seated chief
Treated as markings.
Here nothing else but
The plan
Is important.
His words hung up;
Their eyelashes, garments.
Night's Day, Torrent
Of Peece, he is dawning.


"""
Stain 'pon this planet
I'm a stain upon this plane
A stain upon a paper
I'm a stain in all our brains
I'm a stain that is expensive;
a stain
with some aim
I'm a stain they "exquisite"
a stain that they claim
As a stain.
We're more than
Paint on a page.
"""

"""
Dew hasn't risen, listen the
mist wishes to
steal a gem behind the
skin of my neck.
Chiefspeak; nothing to pimples
your bust it is simple:
Yo call it's mom a leprous hooker
y'know, launch an offensive.
It's a
little lightning in this bottle,
enough to freeze about an
hour while the
might of 90 bolts'll
mop the ocean up.

Firebird?
My knife can slice a word
into a fate
worse than obsolescence...