yr halo was like a bad 3rd grade art project gone horribly right
a graffiti above your prescient head, wings in silver ink
words incised you into this and they may well bring you back
legend and whisper in my head
where every sidewalk you walked is a temple and did you know that?
i pray at daybreak at the tracks click-clack
where the nobodies that this is about come back in a polariod flash.
yr halo is brake fluid shoe polish latex paint tinfoil tissue paper rusted red rail-road ties and the thundercloud of february skies pissing sleet.
how unlikely these should meet?
only in our minds babe
only in our minds.
yr all legendary skeletons
mandibles of dream cannibals and hip-bones made of gellatin.
pack my rhymes in time to bust a good line about nobodies existing in nothin'.
too far off base.
you are the meth i never free-based.
tingle in non-existent fingers
taking stabs at the rat-trap my memory lingers.
and when the sprawling seascape of whatever mental earthquake leaves me incapacitated helps my bloody hands get rinsed
i'll be that suburban kid squattin' in the slums on the run from whatever to the image of you my dream conceptions did
meanwhile i engage my second self in never-ending rap battles every time i take a step spit rhymes and close my lids.
but i got a bigass closet, so my jellybones stay well hid.