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yo
childish time echos, we paint with words
interject glitchiness into the mix, it’s soul power
mic hold, heavy-hand
that keep the insurance sniffing and stitching we
gathering in remembrance
galaxy’s the distance between us by christmas, blabbering this
well-pondered philosophy
verbal paint splatter on you, onward to higher velocity and
to what exact degree these 3 o-z’s in my lebron 15’s could
weigh me down, never skip a beat you’re living kid
making me definitionally definitive
what the f-ck’s euphoria
what the f-ck’s a silent night
and who the h-ll are you to tell me who the f-ck you even are
i could live this down like 40 years from now
but i dream of being here year 3-thou

said
“i could live this down like 40 years from now
i dream of being here year 3-thou
i could live this down like 40 years from now
i dream of being here year 3-thou
i could live this down like 40 years from now
i dream of being here year 3-thou”
time’s pre-forewarned indisposable relevance
sacrifice the now into the future with decadence
very far, hard to spread a net, marduk
with the all-seeing-eye farfetched
and there you are with references to iamverysmart subreddits, i’m a
diacritic of dire critics and accents
passé composé, french past tense
i could scribble it meticulous
speeding, not getting ticketed
nymphalid tracked like a cricket in thickets
rickety steamboat, foreward
origin, looking for a word to look for
lord say it’s been a word:
doctor octogynecoloneuropsychopharmacological prodigal son
dope to cope, ’til it all become comical with awful objectivity
and the universe’s not-so-intelligent intelligibility
arbitrary but equality is subjective
self-comparison is recurrent abstraction, think
about who you are, it’s undefined and inaccurate
and surely incomplete, there’s heirarchy in abstraction
perhaps god’s the only thing abstract and concrete

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