chillin n killin

is that the floor
or the mat
on which you just shat
when the cat in the hat
yelled; booo
rat-a-tat-tat
from out the back
of his black Cadillac
40 in his paw
yo bitch on his sak
tread on yo mill
like a good fucking rat
yo starfish puckered
yo jellyfish back
on track
in the face of adversity
you plan your attack
but the shadows taunt
while you're slappin the bats
writing on the wall
in a water based taint
you pickin the scabs
of something that ain't
metamorphosis of diadromous
with a rhetoric digress
coherence in delusion
paints one eloquent fuckin mess...


this story a song
I must confess
a hollow transcript
of an extinct manifest
a killing of time
fondling boredom to rest