Stay near to me. But please. Don't look too close.

Re-routing the vision during Paradigm Awakening mission
Politricks is a crime unhidden, wrote into the system to keep our heads spinning
Past the funny distinct bits and the stunning English, is the dimmer switch

I might be the only cunning linguist on the planet who delivers it like this
But I can't be the only pundit who catches the gist
Let's just get honest with every part of it
Shit is equal parts demonic and retarded

Like baby Cthulu breastfed from a Mosanto bred cow
Science prolly says “That's what you get when you try that shit now!”
Invest in the Tao, to re-set lore expressed morbid and loud,
Reform the core of it I’m quite endowed.

Tales divide, don’t believe the lies. I wasn't born with a veil over my eyes.
It was Gutenberg’s shroud.
Jest the lessons too much, can’t repress as such, seriously, fucking HOW?
Fresh off the cuff, Kaplow!

One tender touch, one beat, one toke, one plain blush, one brushstroke runs heat, invokes my brain, which wakes up, eats, orbs think freely, colors turn Baroque. Each lane rushes, complete, every memory and voice, angelic noise, demon and habit sequence destroyed leans in, filing in clean, firing up each Mental Palace support beam and filling every chamber with seafoam thoughtform, mire and cosmic beams, desire and steam. Every neuron cell screams ‘faster to dream’ like the aftergleam when I just spent an evening of patter with Pirate Queen. Minus the metaphysical montage, energy collage that sends me to pause. Talking about the feedback from every delivery of a proper foot massage. Minus that state of stasis and parasympathetic “Awwwww” relaxed and revolved, the rest is set to evolve.

Spent my life trying to kill my own vulnerability
Intellectual acrobatics and emotional resilience filled me
A seer who appears to always bust hot enough off the cuff? Sure. Wit or lust on the fly
But that side of me is spinning a well formed lie.

“Appear” is another way to say “disguise.”
Anyone else remember the 90’s when that piece of shit MIR was falling out of the sky?
A billion dollars of technology and the finest minds the modern Age of Reason treasured and KGB pressure could buy.
What was it worth? Fucking caper was a waste, paperweight in space, so shiny

MIR is what I fear stares back from the mirror.

That's where you’ll find the real me
Throwing my every-all out for free like I was still ready to fall asleep
Wake up in the very paint I used to leave on walls
Absolve? No. Revolve, evolve, resolve to call it all, maul and brawl?

Lame-ass mantras covering how small I feel when alone
Infinitely feeling the raw power and tallest towers in my dome doesn't make me any less… strange.
A drop of oil in the big blue sea at plain
Never clean, hunger and longing

Comfortable isn't the same as belonging
Act like I can't be trained off the wrong thing
Always spitting it strong, so the uncertainty doesn't cling
But the urgency and its sting dumbs down my clout

Working each scene while time runs out
Fall away when the best I found gets wrecked by the final sound
So I always have to sexualize every encounter
Like nothing else could grow if I don't fall back on what I know

Round and round we go, in for a pound on every flow
Striving to live without fear everyday
But I suspect I give too much of my spirit away
As though I wouldn't be worthy if I didn't clear every page

Street sage, bedroom mage, just another tactic to elevate facets, keep from getting played
So when I eat, sleep and shit my fray?
I'm a lot like you, just tired of being afraid.
But I can't blame anyone else cause I was self made

Rearrangement of the pieces I got left is my real crusade.
Feel like Mr. Potato Head with half the parts lost, hoping at least the base will stay.
So all those slippery, pretty trippy words and phrases I always have to say?
Fuck it. That's me taking inventory of what I haven't yet stripped, everyday.