You smile brightest when the darkness hits your eyelids,
mind teetering on some divine shit.
I thought we were what you called divine, shit.
My lines aren't as heavy as my arms feel.
My minds isn't sharp like a thorn anymore.
No wonder, I've become less to adore,
a sign merely pointing at the door,
telling you to get out, jump and soar.
---
Poor demeanor,
feeling slightly hotter than a fever,
trying to get my hands out of the water heater.
Defeat her,
but mastering the mind will take a moment.
Get your ingredients together,
this recipes excellence is based on the components.
----
It's Christmas at the bong store,
4/20, tolk, that's whatcha minds for,
got more lines that a dollars got dimes,
plain for the sight but tangled up like vines,
wildfire rhymes,
spitting liquid, no, never mind.
