04-21-2013, 10:20 AM | #1 |
White Earl
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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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-A.bove T.he R.est |
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