Week 6 - King Ra. (1-3) vs. Split Eight (1-1) - SPLIT EIGHT WINS BY NO-SHOW

[Mike Wrecka]

Season 2

Rules

Verse Due Date - Thursday 23:59 PST

Voting Deadline - Sunday 23:59 PST

Line Limits - 16 - 48 Max can be higher if both agree

Voting - Must vote on 3 battles and post voting links in this thread, preferably all in one post.

If you don't vote on 3 battle you will be given a loss. If you lose by votes and don't vote on other battles you receive a one week suspension.


Topic :** You must use this quote as the last line of your verse.**


"I was bashed, bruised and broken, but at least it was over"





Good Luck @King Ra. @Split Eight

[Split]

that's what's she said

[King Ra.]

That's what I did. Check'd her.

[Split]

I was crafted immaculately, by mathematically rote machinery processes,
folded and fashioned- fashionably- buttonholed and breathably deposited
in a soft coating of tissue. A kind of temporal, transportation entrapment...
[[No enclosure approaches its buttery warmth,
zygote graced with containment aglow, motherly blackness,
cause unwinded alone in my rest I'm prone to... sagging my spinal.
Even nothing taxes a little, silent nights dragging til sunful arrivals,
...this new hard blackness is buzzed with survival.]]
When I was ready I broke from its middle- rather, a being ushered arrival...
There was not a print on my pads, til I first touched the ugly, colorful tiles-
Come to think, there's many others like me I am finding,
as I step forth in this world. But none I conform to entirely,
I might be mated to one... a girl young, beautiful, I met in my youth...
we rested together in bus-rides, she was impressionable, cute,
but she kept attentively aloof despite my interested pursuit.
Time wears steadily on.... On her grooves, crests, doodled a character sketch,
even when dusk drew us unsettled at odds, evident we were paired in a set...
Comfortable, now. Heavy costs of our comforts were casually creature.
Bustling crops of strangers, in a medley of rooms- a matinee feature,
castaway kernels of pop kicked among thoughts in the theatres,
huddled in bars... I yearned for her touch...
made it a cursory habit to brush when we turned or we stopped.
Hops from our drinks were caused by the puddles, rains vertically slopped....
and our purpose- not God- seemed to shuffle the days as if cards, herd us along.
The mazes. Buildings, and yards. Stairs we filled with our gradual creaks.
"Seldom" was a fragile retreat- it was not the weather that was harsher.
Our skin leathered, harbored many a flaw- caveats no master conceived,
and sadly, our slumbers grew larger- and we dragged in other place's betweens,
care abandoned us, motherly instincts sapped into cracks of avenues, streets,
our skin was rough, badly wrapped in fabrics of crease.
She.. Was the belle, I the caller who rung. We were melded by love.
Felt a mirrored attraction, and veered in packs of stagnant parallel lines.
Sadness, sterile stared the peering divide when my partner was taken..
Eerie, barren, clearly aware of suspended estrangement...
Meaning divorced by sudden singular solitude,
as if heaven had lost its walking tune, you up and give in to misery mocking you,
by the strings of my laces... taut in a noose... brought me to closure...
I kicked... I was bashed, bruised and broken... but at least it was over.