Friday, December 12, 2008

Not #1 but shiiii

Rip, Rap, Ready

I keep my hand, heart, ready.
Been battered by my machete,
But I’ve finally reached the center of the darkest stalk

I’m caught funny in this eddie,
just swinging to keep it steady
But I use the thinnest section with the sharpest part

Level my head, I’m controlled by words of dead
And I’m shedding all my gettings, every step I walk.

I’ve conceded to believe that I sheath
My best beliefs
Instead of wielding sword and shield, the darkest art.

Relieve me when I breathe
Cause I know I can misconceive
And get impaled by my inhalant when the panic starts.

Level my head, I remember the words I’ve said
I’ll stare up at the ceiling revealing a
Dark feeling, silhouette, and you can bet I play the saddest part.

The worst part? Feeling.
Concealed in my revealing
I’m just peeling at my healings, of my wounded start.

Yes, I bitch, love, dread,
The inhabitants of my head
But what do they know of the drilling of the kindest heart.

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