Raw metaphors tore through he contours of my prism
I'm instinctively thinking that these trinkets could bring wisdom
I have an inkling I'm just a guest in salvation's quest
Non the less I do my my best to project my method's zest
I flex my inner-thoughts like text sexual intercourse
I make adjectives into whores, rape them and inject with force
With no remorse, of course I'm divorced from reality
My pallet's full of analogies, the parody of formality doesn't challenge me
Or unbalance me, it's insanity how malice can banish me
My mantra has no vanity in the trances of reality
From the image in my mind, I try to depict a picture
With this paintbrush in my grip, I'm dipping in a mixture
Of grease, at least I won't be teased without my lubricants
Ensuring that my purity is not polluted by those rudiments
Or intruding truths of juice-induced illusionary tapestries
That conclusively interweave the fabric of my stratosphere
I laugh at fear and the tradition of mental prisons
My exquisite envisions encompass all the Earth's religions
Indecision In the system is why crippled completion
Is indifferent to this inscription, I'll inflict on those who listen.