THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Mr. J]

Take this image to the framer, the thought to the painter
if dudes go postal like the mailer, go ghost in the eye of the laser
I christen wigs with a reboot, sanitation with a repeat use.
the mind is so peaceful, the hovering silence just completes you.
the shells speak to you & seep through a blind heart & thick skull.
it binds up skillful artistry with evil, good minds rot in a wig, oof...
the smile is sickening & causes the nausea to kick in with quick hits
I hope the world remembers this offer & realize its a living to witness.
this is to the innocent victims, the dirt that rests beneath my heel
the earth that tests my very will, not knowing how easy itd feel...
the tension breaks on a coin flip, laughter continues where the noise is
look into where the void is that will end your utter annoyance...
I send a pair of nickels with your soul. I hope you drink from the river
I hope the ink sinks in your liver & sends you on the brink of a sicker....
sickness, my world came in an obtuse tunnel vision...
my corner feels empty, I feel confused & huddle in it.
look at these problems that lay buried in another foxhole
a number 3 combo upsized my deep dish isn't from Chicago
its from today's tomorrow, tomorrows endlessness isnt odd though..
everyone like easy shit, give them there daily dose of prunes
what, what, what.....get them some x lax with toast & soup...
curse their sickness its twisted, I cant hear the last word said
I cant scheme past the last word said, I missed it, believe I did it.
kiss them good riddance, I shitted from the height the blackbird left
quote the raven, smoke a camel & run through the jungle real quick
nevermore, it was never a scandal but I know the puzzle can feel it.