I can't think of a title that doesn't have the word damn in it. See?

No king without a throne

I knew it wasn’t meant to be

Alabaster, tarnished bastard

I fucking hate you and you know it

It’s in my eyes, rage, madness

Vitriol, I bite down hard, clamp

So you can’t take it away again

Goddamnit I thought you were golden

My god, my father

What the fuck have you done?

You monster, my monster

Your blood is in my veins

I want to rip it out with my teeth

I want to blind myself to never see that smile again

Poison mouth

Poison man

Green eyes, blue eyes, whatever the hell you are

Demon, I see you

Christ can’t tell what I would do to you

If you ever did it again

I swear to god I’d kill you

4x4

Bars, charts sittin’ torn

Knock down your veins like Haiti

In a storm

Future twisted like a joint of dissolution

Can’t feel the syringe so you

Diss my solution

Fusion of lucid musings

Not an illusion of what we’re really doing

Feel the box, six by four around your head

Even more terrifying when you know you’re not dead

Buried alive but still bumping to your favorite tune

Dug up by criminal minds with eyes

Like a fish-tailed moon

And goons, you see, don’t really mean

To be

But thievery and chivalry go hand in hand

With what we hope to achieve, necessary evil

Extreme ways, moby in your headphones for those

Up-turned days

Shaved agenda, trimmed budget

Just lost your part-time, tried not to fudge it

Fuck it

We lost it, it’s hostile

Mobile mental patterns seek to roast

Guile

It’s almost infantile

Do you dig what they bring to the table

Fables crafted out of known rambling

Shambling down the avenue

Split between what you mean and what

You actually do

So chew it over with some humility

Ability to discern the pattern of gregarity

Clarity, grab a bag of chronic seeds

So you can start a garden free of

Pesticide, nutrition for the growing mind

Burned out bums dish broken time

Shattered brains and hypnotized rhymes

Bootleg handed down by generation

Distilled to ferment your indignation

Sublime, really, I love it when the filthy

Situation fits what I design or decree

Stopped at the park

Yes, this shit belongs to me

You see, me and this feces make

A happy family

Just the bacteria and I

It’s not the hand

But how it’s played

Shoot up a walgreens

Cause you haven’t gotten laid

Raid on the mind, like a solvent

To roaches, approach this medium

Of tedious delirious youth

Madbliss

Fucked around with too many mental crystals

Missiles of a high volume that consume optimism

And the feel-good know nothings of a street philosopher

That is all we are, microbes on a layer of shit, feces known

As home, still the everlasting home for our bones and dust

We are the life-powder for future generations, the potential lies

Within each of our hearts and minds, a steady combination of

Fruitful discussion and madness, Dylan theatre of knocking and

Raving, oh the times, yes they are a changing, feet clanging

On grates of conglomerated hate, minute hand is a poison

lol-tacular

Pound for pound, the tears of a clown

Fool performs when nobody’s around

No sound except the silence

The threat of violence

Blind from the poison so he borrows my lens

Pretense of excellence

Poised sequence of chex mixed mental fits

Decked in his battle-gear

Can’t scare adults, so he strikes fear

In the hearts of children, midland

Little tykes in toy-land

Hasn’t felt a female touch since ninety-three

Hasn’t shaved since the war, hasn’t bathed in

I can’t remember, was it mid-september?

Some time that he melted in an ether blender

It’s rendered, mentally unstable, flip the table of

Able doctrines, mistfits to my fix, all quiet on

The frontal lobe, burned out and it’s all gone

Insect chitters in the skull, mentally null, abstractly

Dead in a cask of fear and humility, if only the audience

Could really see, beyond the make-up of the clown

A tortured me