MY DARKNESS WRITES RHYMES!
Kill my thoughts before they kill again,
My souls holes picked locked,
With this wicked pen,
I have stricken men,
Pets, women and children,
I get vicious with them,
Because my hurt comes first,
This curse is the worst,
But first things first;
I’m taking off this blindfold,
Taking the name of a psycho,
Raising my followers as if I was the bible,
Pressing against this collarbone is my rifle,
Let’s get your ghost out of those dry clothes,
I’m spying on you through my motel spy-hole.
I am trying my hardest to bury this sin,
Swallowing a fistful of pills,
I’m merely practicing medicine,
Face droops and head-spins,
‘Til death do us part,
This will be my black wedding.
I’m ready for war, Bring on the drums!
Luckily for me we’re not men of the cloth,
Or we’d all have serious problem,
Alex you’re not regular anymore,
Counting the days on my calendar,
Fearlessness with the spellbinds I write,
My enemies I fight, I dissolve them.
Further into fiction,
Murder with my fingers tipped visions,
When my world stops turning,
Over the lines I’m killing.
Slit my write wrist,
Popped the tablets,
Incase you missed it,
Didn’t kick the habit,
Kicked off the blanket,
Shaking in my boots,
No fear factor,
Taking even more bad fruits.
In the eyes of the beholder,
I will be a memory,
So whatever happens,
Please, just remember me.
I’m traumatised from Earths frostbite,
Reading this? I got you cross-eyed,
Forced fed another lost life,
Living in a bombsite,
Writing is my only foresight,
Superman putting on glasses,
Because in the land of the blind,
I’d rather be four eyes.
I fall by my will,
And one day I know I will fall,
After all someone must hold onto this thunder-ball,
Peeking over the wonder-wall,
Tipple-tailing and somersaults,
Happy-slapping and handicapping,
All the worlds’ underdogs.
Fight this thought,
I’m a writer!
Blinded by these words,
A mad mans mind, the rise and fall,
I’m a silent pen crier,
Deep dark depth climber.
Weather calls for extreme conditions,
Heaven falls while we all listen.
I’m a jack of all trade,
I’ve got the rapid response late,
When my magma words roll this way,
My jagged bones stick out from my face,
And I’m still attacking my soul,
With simply a pencil and a page.