Nightly-
I fight me, myself, and my lonely-
Incite 3 brawls to snap from zone 3 to zone invincibility-
Ignite green packs of menthol cancer sticks till they hold me, liable, and force me
To spit up blood all over my clothes, please-
Like I said, I do this nightly-
Pound a 1/5 of Jack or Black, throw it in my hatch-back and try to back-track to my flash-back where I doubled up with the last sack of bills I had and the house beat me with a Black-Jack-
So after years of these midnight debaucheries-
My face is sallow like butter filling up nooks and crannies,
Of my breakfast muffin that Thomas still owes me-
Thwarted by invisible hands that never cease to leave my vicinity-
And taunt me, and prevent me-
From re-organizing my penchant and only then can,
I accomplish all my deeds, satisfy my needs, flee pessimistic pleas-
Remove the goad from my head and stab it in my chest so I can be who I am, not who I need to be-
Having ephemeral initiatives is a degenerative disease-
Gets you hopelessly broken just like Duchies and trees-
And has you open like the ocean across the Seven Seas-
Muthafucka please, I said I do this nightly-
Jim Bean in my grip, alcoholically equipped-
Till it swirls in my head like a defective suicidal trip-
Wise men to my left-
Demons of the flip-side-
Crip-walking, homicide stalking the tab that’s slowly melting on my tongue’s tip-
Delusions, inexcusable, supreme psilocybin dream-
Quietly-
Retire me, myself, and my lonely, at precisely, a quarter to complete anxiety-
Right after sanity cease and vulgarity flees-
But it don’t bother me-
Why?
Cause, I do this nightly~