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| Phenom | Kingz | Dabatos | TonySelf | Tha Q | Half Breed | Tito | 7th End | RV Radio  |
02-11-04, 05:18 PM
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#1
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New to RB
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I'm new here!
IP:
First Post The useless jogging in different directions to escape the confinement
Born to death.....the sad estate and mentallity of a hostile enviornment Gone to wreckage..what genie do you know fills out a form for a deathwish Unable to mesh shit ...wanting to escape oblivion dreams of narcoleptics The anguish...the drama the yearn for a casket ..needing to bury the hatchet A brain slowly ate away by the maggots..played and unable to attract shit For the fear of not being attractive...which would lead to the need to be active To live through these fatal attractions...which puts youur brains into fractions The need for no action...for the constant sleep...therefore not to be deprived of life that lies ..and stunts the need to survive through a life barely arrived Young at heart..but yet restless at mind..left without a meaningfull find For a reason to live a life intertwined and mangled by the everyday grind of a true hustler ...a man feining for death....feining for a life of less misfortune And hurting that sports such a heavy hand..that acts as a light touch Which will bruise your selfesteem...send a shot through your locamotive out your motive...so your body and soul are left with nothing but torture A dream of narcolepsy no more stress no more pain no more bullshit to face Lay my face in a pillow therefore in one case wait for "le coup de grace" Enclosing my space...lacing my pace ..to slow my footing behold im losing Jogging in place...life and all this shit has suddenly slowed my movement No way to improve shit..or look at new shit ...lifes short and so are improvements Head in the clouds...brains riding the air.. to bad..steps are cut short on the stairs What a state of affairs...nothing of good fortune .."no legs" playing "musical chairs" Must not hear all my prayers...proof myself ...that even the greatest fall Wipe my eyes..put my hand in my mouth..to acheive the biter taste of salt Life is at a fault...while mine is at a hault..keep moving just to let my pen jot Ink through the tip..from the same hand that was on the corner selling rocks On blocks that wont stop to watch you suceed ..but freeze at the moment of downfall I sit and wonder where the talents gone...our even ponder if there was any at all Anything to begin with ....i sit and try and extinguish the drama and anguish Not easily dealt with. .try and buckle down but usually jus get the belt width I've felt it...the reprecussions..the pain...dreaming of being blessed with concussions A coma at best...fully loading the three eight and playing roulet without russians I'm a bit rusty! Last edited by Ambient Light : 02-11-04 at 05:28 PM. |
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