I would if I could but I can't so I won’t
Hold me today

The sunset fell on top of, scrape me off these boards
Inject me high into the sky and never again say your bored
Dye, dye, dye the sky with the color of my gut bile
Mixed in tears we cried the ones that left stains on the sundial
Hot pink magenta was the edible fluorescent glow
Drooping home soaked in sun ink, stumbling clutching sunny company—ugly underneath, tryin' to rub off on somebody
(and shed a little muddy light-stunning right
A walking talking contradiction)
Found freedom in free falling the the ground will
Mold my imprint, it was good while it lasted
Bad cuz it doesn’t I feel like a had it but sold it for drugs
And I would be an addict if the basement didn’t have such an underlying truth that I believe I needed so bad

I read what you wrote before I dove
I don’t know If I can float my hands won't hold
Result is inevitable

The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout
Out came his brains—dead cells that he felt melt
In went the train of polluted chemicals
Cho cho---oozing dripping out his mouth
Down his soul, up his throat—out into the open
What's now exposed has drowned folks
Most poke heads out disgusted
The smoke is blown into the backsides
Now someone left it open
The moment that you float in is air polluted, potent (viper)
Hyperactive-atomic masses—bouncing off walls hitting the fan
With no evidence, fingerprints were not found
Isn’t this ironic? Erratic static is byproducts of my myopic knowledge, grafts-are stabbed when eye openers, pry on it
Lenses stretched a bit, wide and ripped so violent
That pilots up high above us, think that the violets
Have been dyed with vibrant colors of comfort and
High respect but others have not annihilated it
I recommend you fry all eight real quick

Grow proportional to birth pains of the planet
Watch it pulsate
Make love to mother nature just to see her molten heart break
I love hearing myself think, I like to see you try
I can the smell the taste of how I felt the day
I thought I was a star-supernova realization
Let's shoot down the shooting star and suck whats left of life in it before its light begins to scar-, I'll spit my sorry soul down your apologetic throat, I hope you took your pills
That acid reflux might cause you to choke
You mine as well—I wish you well
I bet you would—but who's to tell?
Don’t be that could've should've man
Who would’ve if he knew he could but should have
When he pulled the scab but didn’t all because of you
And now your sad, mad, chewin' on what you could have consumed, you're chewing on what you could have consumed