Self represented, player hater.

For the pervert masses are just teaching classes 

to dress for the exception of x-ray glasses

for concealed pride is used as social lashes 

"looking, cause I'm good looking."

Nah, you just remind them to itch their rashes.

No need to earn thy respect just handing out free passes

and cuss out those that think beyond the erected obsessions

because you can no longer think beyond those corrupted lessons.

I'll risk it all, gamble a life alone 

for the one I want to hear moan

I'll earn the right for her presence to call home

but not if their used to just earning that boneless bone

I see the contradiction, I'll die free and never live a life of a clone.

Heated

For no commas between just hurried space

for all your breath has been misplaced

left pure panic written upon thy face

towards no start just running midrace.

Something to feel.

Hello Hole, how are you

still the same with the no reply 

just tormented time to say my goodbyes

well fuck you too.

I love, love.

I swore I knew you once, long ago, but you vacated

left behind a husk called hope, in that you just temporarily relocated

a sandy mirage to my thirst, just one hill away to be ever sated.

But an entity you are, to fly up high or caged down low, constantly underrated.

A visit for the genuine smile 

a chirp to tell of your time filled miles 

then you blink, I guess I'll see you in a while.

Scrambled echoes.

Ears hurt from their heavy talks 

legs hurt for they forever stalk

eyes divert for they intensively gawk

thoughts divert from their dagger like calls.

Damn these echoes, bouncing off these walls.

Player hate.

Pass the goblet, got to set this shit straight.

Players are slags minus their assurance

the differential is just 'man-hood' insurance

only able to relate to 'bitches', thats called transference

players play the game only thing thats real is their disappearance.

"I'm a man"

"Man, shut the fuck up."

Needed want.

Walking with purpose because the wants a need, right

while talking those lonely nights

he's at work and your just a pitiful sight

blaming any excuse for constantly turning on those lights.

Your conviction on others is lost as you besmirch the cost

an open eyed price as your ever-light purse is tossed.

I was made a human.

Sanctity synonymous to a fantasy

like lions dressing with witches and looking naturally

made within a man-made world, a gender specific mentality

can't think of a more exaggerated fallacy.

"Ew you look nasty." 

"you're beautiful to me."

"you can't do that, can't even believe you have the audacity."

"Well actually it's only the insecure who try to convert so casually 

nah callously, now where the fuck is the apology."

Which sex said which and how many of each agree?

If your answer is anything but mixed, then thats all you'll ever see.

Walk on.

Set abound by empty eyes 

set upon a ground of lies

if not for the rhymes 

I would've given into the flies

and the stench of my bullshit covered tread they walk beside.

Regression.

Solidity slain where the hollow remains

midground pain as smiles in vain

undeserved aims while chaotically lain

constantly un-Abel, I'm always Cain

killing the able thats deep in the brain

dug holes reclaimed from the graves deeply ingrained

home is where the heart is, it's why I'm living in shame. 

The runaround.

 

Side to the behind where the lies silently chime

from where I should be blind, if not for my circling mind

writing signs to stay mine amidst the actions of mimes

pulling the rope to spin me round as I'm drawing the lines

to revolve the spiralling design of an upward decline

spilling the rhymes, of what was always, inwardly entwined.

The run around.

An unoccupied space placed in every direction faced

mapless, hapless, relentless pursuit of a frame fully encased

the seeker of the smile where time is weighed in miles

and flowers wither to die, next to the empty vase.

OMG, that show right.

The 1 with the 2 spit split

like snakes with a tongue mid ripped

though the mouths tight lipped 

sewn shut, though it's missing every stitch

every gurgled attempt is to high pitch

dogs bark but human ears can't hear that bitch

down all for the cheddared limp tricks

only stand up tall, when up for playful hijinks 

fetching balls with the slobbered down rinse

better loosen that chain to free it from every kink

blissfully unaware, looks fade then you die and life is but a blink

lead me to the main-stream of the proverbial Kool-Aid and I still won't drink

this is why I don't give a fuck what you think.

But have a cookie, have a seat and ignore that old mans wink.

;)

What do I see?

Interpretation of an observational creation

each block connection is of an equally opposite relation

every map a question, where is my location

every mountain a fixation blinded by temptation

to keep the mind fixed on exploration

for every sight, is a visual narration of a synchronised negotiation

between mental collaboration of continued investigation

and measurable examination of our minds continued separation.

Serrated vision.

Those hollow eyes that follow closely

these blinded eyes that seem open to me

even though everywhere is too dark to see

but it's where I'd rather the stabbings be.

Out.

Out, though trapped inside a closed route

no matter how much I shout 

it's still encased within the loud bouts

it's even more confused when in doubt

out, eternally inside for from the earth these walls forever sprout.

Just me.

Childish pain laughed at again, individuality gained

persistently outwardly cold, a mothers claim

just a painted ugly name from their tyrannical reign

close quarters fame, maimed, I pray for what remains

complex understanding rewrote for the laymen's

of the laying under the ignorant laymens 

so I spit out against the 'lay' hunted by the countless mens

my blood is the ink in these pens, each verse drains these veins

this brain is ghostly claimed from the laughing masses dubbed, sane.

MY, decline.

vision, wishing on the who, on which do I stare

and I've fallen where, and do I even care?

The rhetorical that spawns the moral of chasing hares

slow and steady, with the aim no more side-track with the blame

though the games the same your tracks to my side 

with it's own finish line, we've all got that to call, mine 

needed time to realign, to reline my design

to write the outline of hope around obscure fate's decline

for me thats truth, when the two and life combine.

Beauty in free will.

All across the plane theres an all encompassing sight

for no matter the direction the eyes align and time takes flight

theres a hidden means in a compass shared, the shared rebounded light

interpretation through different minds and relative rights

understanding of language though through different story's we write.

Eyesore. No, thats not what I see yes a grey factory thats as plain as can be

but the workers, potential family homes and a blossoming community.

All I see is the smoke from the current pollution.

 I have faith in different minds finding a solution.

With millions still in slavery I doubt time will wait for our resolution

the thought of the will of those different minds, now thats a scary situation.

Yes to that I would agree, but keep your voice down or they'll price up free no hesitation

for all we have is hope in people not in the political legislations.

So we politely ask the clock to give us time to prove our dedication

it seems to me that all our minds need a change in education

for if we all keep doing the same we're just the products of our own elimination.

And we meet our consensus, when all minds are free with no domination

we will out think our pain in our idle separations.

As always friend I envy your faith and enjoy your observations

and the sheer length of our meaningless conversations.

A home for life.

Sitting here with Cliff, watching the tides

free to roam yet here's our home, side by side

squawks as the birds fly-by, gracefully, with a fishing dive

here we choose to spend our lives, watching time

sunrise, sunset, rain or shine 

'pon these rocks, the views divine.