The Plagiarizer.
The Phony.
The Fucked.
And you still don’t meet the match of the Fuck-Up.
And think YOU:::: built the fucking meat packing district.
Your mad cows were fake for trafficker and incestuous.
How deplorable to meet my rhymes.
And a foot lower and I can still dunk on the 18 foot behind.
Impaled without insight.
Leave me here – you don’t love me enough?
A setup.
Because my Husband wants to give me some time.
Let’s do et foooooo
And par-lay the system.
And Wu-Tang the fucked american system.
We from here dawg.
Indigenous + Indeaneaejgoeajs.
It translate the same.
Like Shoham + Samueal.
A Testament of Time.
Of jealousy and insecurity… I’ve always chosen you, my dear.
Your best friend just has an insecurity problem.
And we offer advice.
The Irish Bastard Fuck-Up.
So touch in your sweatbands and all you do is cry.
Who taught that to you?
In Sociopathic Ways and Strays towards a darkness that seems. Pathetic.
That’s a “Jew-Word” and we just wanted to seem good enough.
To stand the test of time with hindsight.
And you gave into neanderthals.
How sad.
And Lost your Divine Insight.
No Soul for 464 and deprived me of my ever-continous Life.
I’m 54, broh.
December 12, 1969.
An oral-sex position to you.
Dick-sucker.
Stooge-Soother. With Pop for Locks and I drop
da Truth-Bomb.
Just for you to Heal.
That means WARRIOR IN RARE TIMES.
And Love with Sweet Sighs.
It’s good to take a break.
And you rather brake the 6th wheel.
And blame me – for not driving.
Alright carjacker.
You don’t know Grand Theft Auto means – get ur shit back in Isreal.
And I’m – from Palestine.
Giza bitch, and wish a tick into twitch and your racial eh, I got not heritage–
Seems fool.
You only want ownership.
I wish you understand.
That people still think you’re cool.
You just have no accountability.
And vanquish all your dreams of some conquest of another man’s girl.
Sad.
And you’re still my Best Friend.
You’re Gay bro,
And I’m Non-Binary Queer and he’s Bi for Vies.
We’ve been around the block.
I ain’t gonna delight bc there’s a lot o whatever around.
I know what love is – alchemical.
And you think in your Fantasy Land we’ve given up on The Man in The Attic.
You live in the same room with us.
And it’s still larger than a New York Satellite.
Studios are small and you want big family.
Wtf bro, you’re a Leader of the World.
You gotta be diplomatic, with your amnesty.
Forgiveness in fucking up your relationships with unburdensome tiresome
And you think God left you.
And we rattle on in whispers trying to tell you stories.
And get you to write.
We know who writes what – and it isn’t you.
Please, get back in the kitchen.
And stock the script.
It’s okay, you’ve been a piece of shit.
We’re forever here with love for you.
Relapse was a great album, and we wish to only encourage you.
Stopping another to not write, will only end The Fugue??!?!??!
Please – don’t sigh.
You won’t listen for the brightside.
And frankly – you’re deaf.
So like…. Why don’t I write it on a Laptop, while you watch and Divine – damn I was holding her back and taking up her time.
And I was really just annoyed; “you don’t have anything you’re thinking about to write??”
I ain’t gotta fuck you to find you fine.
You’re our Best Friend.
Give it up dude and stop trying to hijack our marriage.
I ain’t got 4 partners.
I just wish my insecure homies, would finally stop fucking thinking they gonna get a turn to hop-in.
We didn’t do that in the Barracks.
We went to France and chose like.. A Days Inn for $15 a night.
And continental breakfast.
And everyone got something different on the tray.
Don’t touch my fucking plate.
Is something most would consider.
Either way like.
We aren’t pushing you away.
We just want you to use your room you fucking begged for and watch another show.
I’m tired of the A-side Animation Hit for cheeto-dust mtn dew drinking Losusers.
We’re Lugers.
Either way, like we’re not kicking you out.
You got your own shit we give to you.
Taking a Break.
And you find pardonable.
You were my 2 and 4 and 5th Ex-Husband.
Bc we just in the Clergy.
And get divorced every 4 and 6 years.
To see how the other divide decides what’s cool.
And like..being servicemembers on tour.
I ain’t seen you for years at a time many times.
And martial-law predispose says hhelllll nah.
You ain’t got international tax code for this to be binding.
And I wish I could get just get out of bed without monologuing asphyxiating on the darkest shit I’ve seen.
And you tremble with all your sadness.
You were raised OutLaw Shit (easily.)
And hijinksed yourself into thinking – you are the reason; it was created.
Silent Think or Killer with A Broom.
Hornets think you’re soothing
To give honey.
Even if it looked like it killed the bees.
Those Jocks turned the Nerds into Brawn.
And you wonder why we still think of you as –
Teacher.
The Moths bloom and Leave the Hive-Mind.
Seeking Individuality.
In a tiresome Love, and no Fire.
But nuclear-heater for star-power.
It’s okay you have a preference: The Submariner.
I like Space, other Dudz like the Dust of Silo Grain Crust;
we don’t know wherever the fuck the Other One ventured to.
He just in Salty Water; looking for you in your Mind.
WE GOTZ TO GET THE BAND BACK TOGETHER.
[in brac.es.] {and meet in the middle.}
[I Love Brackish Water.]
It’s more thoughtful that way, than to say:
Of course I hate you, or keep asking every 23 seconds if I still love you.
We’re tired of that shit.
What the hell I got to prove.
I gotta go back out of bed – to write this.
Literally about you.
and This is What you Complain About.
Without ever stating or acknowledging.
That’s sad due, with hypocrisy to boot.
and DAS like some BULLLSHIITT.
So either way – play your jesterous ways.
and push us further away.
You’re still here sitting watching me right.
and you’re deaf, and so am I.
No cochlear, that’s fine.
Contralto flex, all the rest.
Save your breath. I don’t want to argue.
I gotta vent the quake.
and get the money.
and hope just, hope.
One day.
i got the monies for imported salum.
and Yes, I will make the cheap plastic paper tray – exactly how I knew you like it.
Trashy af, Ex-scoffier.
The Original Dishwasher Bum.
and in your stardom you killed – there wasn’t love for anyone but the Ones that believed in you all along.
That’s why I deleted all my Social Media.
Why view?
When I want Art.
I don’t be hitting up no one.
and frankly it’s sad. That under-contract.
and nearly 2 years removed from the public-view working course.
You gotta ask why – I really don’t want to have dinner with you.
and Bail.
and save myself some tired relief.
We got nothing to talk about.
I ain’t your Soulmate.
You just lonely and replacing the love that broke your trust before.
Don’t fuck a circle-in-the-square.
Dead-Soul Walking.
I ain’t got Love for you.
You killed it a long time ago.
and still watched those shitty videos.
and lying culure-vulture – you ain’t speak Mother-Tongue
and call the Reggeatonera – the white-girl.
Pusamanateian PLS> we know yo whole family lying.
The fuck a missionary?
we call that :
Sound Out The Exorcisor – in The Actual Church.
Christianity Quakes, doesn’t exist in Italy.
i think you got bent on Cult-Fiction.
and your weird fascination with True Crime.
and ignorant interpretation.
Truman Show, with Human Bow.
I’m – actually THE SAGITTARIOUS
and all my Loves, quiver.
To know; you wanted to fuck our relationship so badly.
and now you login from prison trying to repair.
This wasn’t a Sting without Affidavit.
Your left your cruel heart in jail.
I trusted you Friend.
and now seamless digression, realize why I always fall back off the public views.
Omniscient, and Clairs for use of all the Senses.
I ain’t gotta get Spidey – we raise the Spiders and find them Families.
I can’t be around you.
I want to focus on Art.
and I knew the whole time.
and still heard you vent and encouraged your art and I was tore up inside to knew you were pining on all my mens’ pages.
That’s why we go ghost.
Discovered Hit-Talent.
You ain’t learned how to talk to someone in 20 years?
and think broken-dialogue-satirism is how you treat people.
That filmed in less than 3 Months to go fight a War.
and Now: 3 is Over.
And like every other sense of Immortal.
How tf you gonna fix that when you’ve been abandoned countless fucking times and blame people for revusing the course.
I never left my Clergy-Embers.
But at the same time: you’re a lying, decietful piece of shit that only did it for attention.
Causing trauma and I got hesitation to even get in your car.
Stolen wicker.
and frankly, no mason jars.
I gotta tell you kid, I know the districts(s).
and I know… when I’ve met a bar-toller
that got rotten on limp fish.
you are no contract killer.
and If I refuse to amuse and titthee on in cleansing of circumvention ways.
Even a 3x Canonized Saint in 24 of Score is giving up on you.
Drop the halt, bitch.
Season Up or Get Sober.
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