Sky's The Limit? Bitch, I'm Moon Walking..

To a land

A condition where my inhibitions do not exist, I drift

No LSD for me, but I trip

Sometimes it’s characteristics are like that of a gift

Other times, I nightmare with no repair

But first I stare to what is around

See the sounds, in and out

Down to their molecular compounds

And see in a degree which is that of 360

From the disaster that is Bliztkrieg

To the wonder of Y2k

And I’d pray, once upon a time, before this occurence

That joy be concurrent

Every night or day before I’d lay

And drift levels deep into the condition of my sleep..

And you win

Though I may pretend that I do

My greatest sin is succumbing to whim of the skin that I’m in

And I lose

Victory would call for repeated history

With you emotionally bruised by The Phuse

Excuse my muse and the methods of madness that I choose

And lack of any clues in conjuction with my consciousness

The horror

Never experiencing any amourous aura 

Even plantonically from Zipporah watching Dora the Explorer

Place your order

But I can’t guarentee it be done to a T like your identity

Because former happenings inhibit me

And shallow sypathies don’t interest me

From the depths of any sea or peak of any tree

I will be me to the most obstinate of degrees

And you’re at ease, but not flexin’

And since we face different directions

I’ll turn the other cheek every time we meet

With the vibe of how we greet at its peak

After an intercession of sexin’ or intermission of reminiscing

I’d break my back with my heart detatched

So fuse them and you might lose him in a heart attack

I want my cardiac to be slow to react

To any heartfelt act than you enact

But mine will crack with your’s intact

And if mine stays sturdy, maybe your’s feel dirty

The misnomered martyr in a straight jacket stays placid

Though the Queen is shook due to a misplaced Rook

No Bishop ever showed up

No Knight in sight tonight

And the Pawns were gone before dawn

I could send you on a headfirst slide into Cooperstown on a bad bet

For the writing of a bad check

Reciting of a bad hex

I know what you’re going through

Though your husband might not have a clue

So before you take a second chance at romance

On your way from hell, say hello to Othello..

Its no you or me, its us
See trust is a must but that was lost with time
So as a crutch to trust, we forged lust
Now that crutch might keep the stem sturdy
Since I still get you moist and I like I when your pretty voice talks dirty
But the roots are withering
With ice boxes for hearts we’re shivering 
Lips that were once steady, now quivering
When they speak the words that are now taboo to the tongue
More genuine when it had just begun 
Now spoken perhaps for fun
Conditioning and wishful thinking
Shallow kissing and blissful reminiscing 
Of when it thrived and we were alive
But it revives when I’m in that lotus flower for about an hour
And I might devour when its at it’s ripest and it’s tightest
When I play with your privates in public
You love it, so I does it
Yeah we’re both hospitable
But if we’re only cozy under mistletoe
The feeling’s too conditional
Wilted and worn out from a sentimental drought
Bloomed and met its doom too soon
Never groomed
And with the lack of rain it could not self-sustain 
Endure much pain
Conflicts or content of a relationship
And the exposition might have been a bit more sickening
And scary had we known it’d be temporary
Blind, barely to this hysterical burial
The death of a Daisy makes you crazy
And the end of my prose is the death of a rose
And I’d bring it back to life if I could
But I can’t, cause love ain’t no amaranth..

And the hardest part is getting you to feel my heart through my art

Trying to keep my head above water

I need no sharks on my ark, like Noah

Dealing with conflict, trying not to constrict like the boa on this boat

Somtimes I nearly choke

Cause what I try to swollow whole is too firm for my soul

Aim for a strike, but when it my turn to bowl, it lands in the gutter

But I don’t shudder from the sound or feeling of thunder

I muster up the vigor of a feild nigger

Trying to wear his way up to Hilfiger and more figures

Call me mister and respect my inner hipster

Cause its hard living less lavish than your dreams

And your dreams come few and far between

The seams that I’m falling apart at

So to keep it together, I might need a hard hat

Cause when it pours, it rains anvils

I just wanna live according to my will before the reading of my will

And have my bucket list somewhat fulfilled

I rest less than the restless

And day to day life is harder than the most complex game of speed chess

So at night I take flight without fright

Take sail into an urban hell

Capsize, I just might

But I’ll be more gratified having tried 

Even if the cruise is choppy ride
And life’s foreplay is somewhere on the wet and sloppy side

I’d rather say I was bruised and occupied

Like this generation’s movement

There’s something to learn, lose and love worldwide

So I’ll ponder on if the water is wetter over yonder

And try not to squander my time

As I wander my my mind

But not a single rhyme of mine could begin to express or epitomize the hardest part..