Methology

The energy current flowing is growing immensely,
Intensity increasing speed to transmitters within me,
Life's what I named it,
Providing the fuel to produce,
But potentially capable of applying the noose...

Aware of the dangers in playing this game,
Bought my ticket first class to comfort my brain,
Crystallizing the receptors of worry and pain,
Opens the door for my genius to mutate and reign,
Creating a mysterious wordsmith magician conjuring change,
While contagious infections of questions manifest destiny’s name,
Systematically formulating brain wave patterns,
Igniting dirty bombs of hydrochloric acid,
Exploding at point blank range...

Compromising the stability of your main frame's ability to process data securely and quickly,
Elevating me to a level of self proclaimed intellectual history...

I’m writing the book that's being written about me as I speak these words...

Bust the seal,
Smash,
Scrape then inhale the rail,
Shake head,
Exhale,
Slide away,
Blasting off to blaze new trails,
Spreading my experience thru rhythmic tales laced with anger,
Betrayal and sin,
Empowering my narcissistic nature to show face with a grin,
So the cycle beings again and again and again...

The objectives to murder with words of success,
Failure,
Suicide,
What I saw when I died,
Relapse that leads back to addiction dressed like a prize,
And fucking that bitch all day and night...

Now that as real as it gets,
I know that I’m sick,
But I take it and shape it to make it be felt by anybody openly honest to self,
From mental prisoners appealing their self inflicted conviction,
Find contradictions in the system but too lost to correct them,
All the way to the angels,
Who's halo's mangle and strangle the angle of truth,
Misusing religion to manipulate weak minded fools,
To sell dreams of salvation at a minimal cost,
To be paid to the minister of deception and loss,
Pulling faith based strings to control actions and thoughts,
Better believe greed’s a degree that's universally taught,
With many face to disguise,
Adapt and be brought freely to the masses of children sitting in classes,
While the teacher's lessons rooted in dreaming of a better day than today,
So as to say to be satisfied is unobtainable or not okay,
And we wonder why humanity is slipping further away from its primary purpose of inhabiting earth...

It’s a scientific process,
That's enhanced and blessed by spirits that never rest,
Providing this lyrical dance,
And chance to ingest a stance advancer...

Now who would've ever thought I could be so well spoken...

There was a kid named Seth who claimed to be something he's not,
By saying his words are untouchably hot,
With game that came from the future,
Captivating neurological sensory cells,
Keeping him above anybody else...

Well I said Seth,
If you the best then show me raw skill,
So he stepped up with words hollow and frail,
Like nursing home residents with transparent skin,
So I nodded and laughed,
Then busted a flow that ended with this...

Don’t step to the plate if you aren't one with the game,
One with words and intensity change,
To lessen and gain depending on intention and disposition of brain,
Wordsmith behavior favors the silent killers,
That handle the fakers by gracefully increasing their risk of danger,
In the holy manger where Christ entered Earth...

As Seth stepped back and dropped his head,
I was crowned king of the poetic battle field,
And given a key to the world as an idolized God,
That creates and destroys with the power of words...

Unfortunately its pretend,
And Seth not real,
But if it possible,
Seth would be killed,
Then burnt for the purpose of boasting,
While roasting marshmallows with strippers,
With his body displayed charred and smoking,
Drunk girls laughing and poking him with sticks...

That metaphorical bitch,
Represented my itch to switch the platform of the words that I've written,
Again I was lead by sin to a realm of fantastically unfortunate pretend friends,
That die by the tip of my pen,
And are decapitated for fun,
Or am I getting sick again...

Somebody send me a doctor,
And make that shit quick,
I’m losing my grip,
And starting to slip...

Personality transformation installation software,
Updated to automatically equip with the newest version of self,
Designed by the designer designing designs,
With defending my mind in mind...

In time the perfection I'll find,
Is the kind that confines,
And blinds the dirty swine,
So I can physically bind,
And extract the life from their spine,
Dumping bodies in areas of high minority crime,
Serial killing with simple lines,
In a fashion that resembles genocide,
The elimination of the living that have already died,
But need assistance in ending their miserable ride alongside the dividing line,
Where suffering defines the sound of their whine,
But taping the mouth is perfectly fine,
To silence the noise while I leave them behind.