Cos’ niggas wired With two hands, flakes scratching off the back of both of my Palms itching, sand-scraping cracked scales; until looking Pale lately, just mailed it was taking breaks, entailed with making Time for some breakdowns - broken spanned space of my Two years, my two hands; dry lips - swollen skin without Balm gripping, karma slipped through gaps of every slice of my Fingers quick, landscape positioning the both of my Arms from lifted; latter posing shown two hands hard gripped on some Pen equipped, been over a year or two since was jetting through Pessimistic vocal my fears, to Blackal setting room on Patience for some dreads to proof, space cowboy’s head was loose to Skipping breakfast like some online classes, I slept through like what Me and the rest done, rest mood, swinging my head first into shifts - too sudden, I made my next moves Fumbling; bed, shirt, mixed with my lips crumpling Head hurts skipping my teeth brushing, it all comes Tumbling down, tumbling down, so as dumb it Sounds, some burnt cassettes found under the buried mud and some Ground, My own work desk I’m etherised on, my Main sweater with the creasing sides formed, unchanged weather - one Piece of a storm, adjourn loosely my releases all Gone...better truth sounding of a stretch fully, promise no Contrast, between two hands versus my two legs Tooling with bass strings I haven’t plucked in these two years Foolish, hoping that they cool with, went Freeform, I’m very loose with my movements, so I didn’t do Shit, but if I did, stay clueless about whether or Not it’s moving shut, niggas fired up like they Two Hands, two blade stance just like an Ackerman Self-guarding - some errand, my perishing health; no pacifist Far from skin hardened, embarrassed about my bitching Fair enough, outside appearance just tightened some contradictions Fear of crying cramming to being crept in Self-pressing practically; scared to speak on seeking back on some Depression I done paired with; bearing with disengaged Pressure back on gripping some pencil, led to say it’s all Fine, but really it’s some 50/50 if it stays on that Grind, staying flimsy, more than halfway as fucked up as Shinji; refrain from seeing a fucking light ray, too timid Catching two hands, rock a Revy for some Black Lagoon Company; punching grief heavy I hoped was something brief Seeming it’ll be for some eternity, hugging inside for Too long, have me feeling I just learnt to breathe, knowing someone just Heard me Catching two hands, rock a Revy for some Black Lagoon Company; punching grief heavy I hoped was something brief Seeming it’ll be for some eternity, hugging inside for Too long, have me feeling I just learnt to breathe Two hands, rocking revolutions for some Black Lagoon Company Two hands, socking resolutions with some Black Lagoon Company

“What are you scared of? Just try it for a bit.” “Let me ask you this. This and this. What would you call these?” “GIRLS. LAYER: 02.” “Enough with this little girl bullshit, get out of here.” “There’s also the ability to access vast amounts of information from an infinite network. All of that blends to create a mixture that forms me and gives rise to my conscience. At the same time though, I feel continually confined within boundaries.” “But you’re not me! You don’t understand!” “I told you! I’m the REAL Mima.” “So what if I’m not you?! That doesn’t mean it’s okay to give up!” “Well if it makes him sleep better at night, I guess. I said that to get you to do something for me.” “Man you real fucked up.” “You’re gonna give me something right? Well come on, what the fuck are you trying to say, huh?” “GIVE.” “Quit yapping you goofball.” “A medal and a human skull.” “You’re wrong, Rock. These are things. When you strip away their meaning, that’s all they are.” “NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, EVERYONE’S CONNECTED.” “LOVE. LAYER."

Play old drooling: foolish - living; its stupid a Student came long from stewardship, stooped a low; pray I’m full for it Foot in a loop - bruising my boots, shoe fit with my newer shit Food in a trench - soup and it stenches the temple, ruins sip Brewing lead - raiding some tomb and grown for my pencil; I’m Pepped on a truant tangent, bound to when I bold my pen through Depth in my beanstalk grape vine, foundation grown once it stems through Stepping stones for a Jackal laid perfectly for the pedal, foe Level head - “no” to patience - left a loss of friends, paying for lot of Doses, many trembles at cost of pens, walks catch every Glimpse of a fucking second lent and wasted for a settled nigga Sick; done coughed on rusted mettle, roughened too heavy not for Little time, limit bevel, better lopsided; Lychee Beverage Mogu’s bottles bent in, scouting down my tooth, dental Decay fighting speeches hence my typing, times I’m serious when I Write; snipe delirium in my nights, my temple clearing, really Dry; wake to fears of forceful joyfulness - having a Mouthful of fucking cotton sets Mouthful of looping cotton sets - lost my senses, hard to speak it’s Too late, lips are always cracked beside a toothache - always Evil in my residence, Leon in my credit with a Weapon done embedded, what a pencil I’m still dreaded by Deadbeat larynx I’m still letting in, let it sit, still fed with Nothing, nothing, nothing; I repeat because I meant it

Black frog, sustaining my bleeding tongue tied Biting my teeth together, still gap between hindsight; hide and keep Back strong beating September, my pain when flies irritate - come by Appetite never existed, happened I mended lips with one Side of a milo mug but my hands prevented from lifting; double binded and stuck, still ain’t got the legs for a sprite, in Spite of boasting time - dumb for watching a padlock rusting; shit Bolted my head from finding another pencil for writing, too Restricted like Postal, I’m running with scissors; not cut for level Head for fighting, caught tunnel vision with your dagger hugging most niggas Laggy punching go Figure, I’m swinging but hardly stumbled distance, clicked from “Ma be Pushing me”, now feel I pushed her past a limit, hardly listened Close to a buck - it’s “fuck decisions”, fuck I’m seventeen, you ain’t Meant to be sensitive; couldn’t be fucked for a bench to seat on, rush my Breath to sweep my lexeme - time I wash and clean my act up Together but still frightened, September ain’t in light of springing a Spirit away from keeping this sprite intact; uneasy with this Height so nigga is scared of climbing, bare this pair of shitty climate March to Freddo season; me tryna fight through finding friends - I need em’ I’m scoffing all this fucking Porridge through lockdown, glad it feed me warm before me prying on leaving Sure crying is really an simple option over breathing Ryder Wilson bleeding monthly deposit Whole coughing, my nose is stuffy and still novice but Sorry I grow solo, I’m cocky but lost my guts for tricks Tomorrow berserk locked-in, don’t show or prone knowledge for digging On a poor ridge, gorgeous tryna’ forgive how to Fit and bridge a gap but shit seems foreign, forever born to sit Across from opposite side niggas who use to think that noggin was Fixed; now thinking Blackal ain’t the fountainhead, he be clogging shit Still tryna’ save up money for a Switch

[Part I: bufu] Dug out Dumps when they double dirty; your muddy clumps, muddled head murky Much of the running water, rusting my bed, I’m turned and stuck Studded legs, leaking pen and a stuffy nose; I’m throwing Lead, less suppose to be gutted, fro needed cutting; wasn’t Near the fucking clutch to end and blow my shit, my tone ain’t even Fit or at least what I think; not for a lending presence, stick to a Foreground, but rather for the back of vids, so slacking pissed be fore now, maybe still in bro’s; filling void mixing mist, be keeping Company, “guzzle cheese before you hear a couple breathe” Weakening my priorities, speaking breeze not for long on lease Seeking people; ceased afford to see, winter fleece in that store for me Hopeless only this Christmas eve, told me it’s over living these Moments and days, throwing the prayers, those was my staying grace Playing slowly down graves when no gripping means on my mains of my Own values, stone statue when given the groaned “tell you”s Makeshift decision so I ain’t expect a salutation; tame Spit delivers ain’t what I use to, a bag of die hard Bitter begging patches; willing to use just only as bruised food Booze dishes, soon to be wishing for hooping back but losing Swishes, sick back at trips laid, fist lacks a switch Blade, sip nade but slips today, piss poor to pick to Pack up cos I’m afraid, say it’s bitch made, a bit stale Big failure to keep my pennies from score, cos now I’m kept from Flourishing around that mall today And doing more today How many times can I count the times tripping? Shit Mouth wide the minimum, my Freddofrog ribbiting Outside the minimum, headstrong feel different Today, ribbons aren’t for fitting for a shoelace [Part II: la] Spoilt - you sealed down in my Consciousness, my meal not really filling for they stomach, gills is Killed for a pocket filled with tears, here on far end of my Dearest way of knocking shit down Clear out for a park in pen, steering allowed go loosely now in Darkened seconds droogie dropping food, that’s fuel; the larger crumbs go Wasted - who go mask us then; No Hearing for a bark but sense, feel like Horton, real unsorted Rooms full I embarked right in; it’s doomed, slump a fired imp, I’m Tired limp a cartridge in a Super shottie; ski mask fighting, trunk don’t fit a re-up, sit Ironic that a punk go say it’s peanuts so he Struggling, gun pumping - shit Mood ain’t cocky; face the other way, fear run the other pen Deals with a jotting pad; stupid pins go calm in clutch I’m feeling Moves in a carcass; ringing Sealed in those fingers, I’m bringing meals for my niggas never Real for a picture then, and shit you pray I’m really built for it all They find my language foolish crude If you think I’m speaking nonsense just note she thinks I’m fluent too I don’t need you spilling teardrops through my telephone

Y’all tryna’ tell what an amphibious assault suppose to look like, stupid Tagging team-up of Peanuts crashing I can’t lose, few racing keepers go Substituting my goals so I’m leaving easy my coach don’t play Passive if it’s my boat crew, float moves a vessel broke Doze away if cap in, don’t shoot, breach a deck all proofing a Tub is bruising, too old; you go hem his way so it pokes through my Poems overboard wasn’t clipped for sea therefore' they blown too Notebook overlord a draft is gripped for breathing I’d Beat this mission if I told you - I’d be dismissive for Written motorsport competition, trips ain’t boosted most anyways Listens ain’t indicative of making pencils a go-to With I don’t think pity pays a Lain for grinning; prone to press Button so book to let me save before I have to go soon Goat moves, you keeping up I’m prone to, Losing shit, I’d hate for any other motive to close in, be Close to my home in picture, poster my dome and liver Foes be my only niggas if chosen to roast my gift but my Toes are moulded in now so beg I venture out, keep endeavours Left as a folded bookmark and in semi-doubt, when it sprout is Time we let it out, might be never; nest a fountain, of these Years I be counting, counting, counting Here, shit never loud cos’ in my years, I be doubting Doubting, doubting Fear I have my doubts all stacked, Towering over Santiago, power to all my hands in largo Point my sisters far from coward passion; never keeping that Bar low, Marlow holdin’ onto the fact my boat and car slow What’s popping like a tyre is when the folded years are far gone What's poppin' like that Harlow Willard grown, when the golden years is far from home with Peers I’m done counting, counting counting Steer the leverage proud cos’ I sustain dependant doubting Doubting, doubting Raid the tomb, not sure who to Cater to, save my tooth, keep the paste in due and my faith for truth Flew the cuckoo bird, words looted only do so much to chirp for food, but not your fucking waiter - feel obliged to give service to Fed to be regretful shows I furnace all that - burning true Shit, too pissed when you hand a fucking Snickers bar Take the piss, clapping further kept in tucked, still sick of bars Sick of friends by now but I need em’, feel I’m losing them when I’m So caught up in counting, counting, counting All the golden years are far alone with Peers I’m done counting, counting, counting Tears go flood my house cos I done stay dependant Counting every Second when I’m bleeding from my neck and dehydrated Independent, wish I’m playing plus a pen I kept neglecting, you ain’t Praying for my death wish, you already knew where I was headed Suffer these fields, with said they burning me May for birth, forreal inept we gon’ let courtesy I don’t need you spilling teardrops through my telephone Yes, in complete bouncing off the walls - infatuated

Blackal drawing more pictures for dreaded fro’s, deck in Focus; an only nigga for foundation; fragrance, poor door Open in squeaking timber, my credit folded; my winter-free September still coped with weather and whether or not my legs were dug in Pedals posing down in-depth, low on patience rose around a Speck of treble lone in debt, clef as doses, most of my Pages are left as broken, dye climb adjacent my poems are Better off hidden for throwaway skulling tones, say my deadline Written wouldn’t piss or pop a tougher collar bone, calling bruh; Hope that Ma’s catch calm in homes, no summer follow domes, cart onto Clutching slack between the gaps of combs, a coke bottle keep me Cold from a role model, far from those ten roadblocks; ahead to Solve, my soldier never knocked or blown soldered thoughts, til’ Crossed a stone boulder rock, a couple thrown before I docked for Double coma gone for the roof leaking shit, million months of bars for friends; go fill it in, if fiction didn’t Exist over the fact a feeling pinned, the faux fam I’m living With, can’t live without though, still carried by the doubts coated Buried in, mouth froze drilling in my wisdom, drought Villainous, the distance grown quillings in How many times can I count the times tripping? Shit Mouth wide the minimum, my Freddofrog ribbiting Outside the minimum, headstrong feel different Today, ribbons aren’t for fitting for a shoelace, focus Drowning in ink rivers; not my Tuesdays, sounds like shifting of my Food taste and it’s looting of my mood; soon moving new pace, pray I’m Tripping not for new say, my cracked Lips live with a toothache Say I’m too late for I’ve Syncopated my decisions, I can go to lift and Thank Grove, thank Garry, thank both, if fed up on Lighting up my numbered years, Ryder forgetting what gaining buzz was, strain to Giving subtle care for this kid, my hands is full at the Moment for just a little bit of shine for a shit

Spit on the side of my face, my lips are dry in my Case, caking my fist, go sugarcoat my lips and hope I’m Okay with shit - embracing my baking, and dip my pride beside Taste, maybe crave enough, full to scrub my hands without Hoping inside my mental, choked before realised some brother could Break, never took a break, only tried cope with some Broken bridge, grown against the ropes; shown division when the Crow flinched, shook beneath the mask, no precision stark For my own teeth and mouth pieced apart, core reason Spoken more leads how cleaning’s hard - speaking through my Pen clicks, fetching my heart needs, same exact Reason my heart bleeds, constant beat changing the State of what’s been covered by my arm sleeves, chafing up the Blisters - chasing what done slither; parch a shadow during Midnight in a perfect world, had me turned slowly into Fighting against another serpent curled about the house - face Twirled sleeping; snake world provided no peace, furled Doing what I want and they hate it, but who’s “they” in this Case? I turned about the truth - worth an edge to say I really Made it say I meant it, certain end I’m blind when busy Paving, burn my dread - tired of busy Waiting, crash Back in 08’ was stoked to beat Sunset Vista, now I’m Closed off, closed eyes, closed mind can’t see a sunset Vista, coloured pair of scissors - can’t trust me holding; pick the Blisters on my knuckles clicked, stubble thin; stuck within some Home - can’t give a fuck to trim, far trimmed so really stuck to Giving, more or little, sun dimmed within the peak sunk to Middle, driven top of this shit, still falling at the Top of a whole bottomless pit, death in my grasp or Grip, go sugarcoat my tongue and lips, slowly go and cake my fist Spit on the side of my face - crash Broken finding Balance in between shit, crowskin binded - bleeding Dragged received litter from a scared idol, motion against the Sideline, dreaming sealed; slip a notice - reading creased Patterns, support the focus on a parched tongue, snark (something) Apparent - in-decreased notion, blinded underneath freedom Grabbed between slithered bare denial - thrown against the Palette, soon lips more potent - mind it’s grieving You can Blame the god cos I’ve always doubted, question genuine for “How to keep a drive if all I fucking do is cry about it?” - crash