Bottled Tears Spoil to Rage

The pendulum swings and the jar spilleth over,

Cold as Minnesota

Teary-eyed, I nearly died

My scars reveal closure

I’m sharpened steel, slicing the greener grass

I can’t help being cocky watching the seasons pass

Tell the world I’m crazy and that I’m free at last

Wise enough to know my insecurities are needed bad

Helium ego, it’s difficult to banish the bravado

Bravo, to the tomatoes changing to ta-mah-toes

My greatest competition is the man I’ll be tomorrow

I’ve extended the farthest limits

Nobody’s willing to spar or scrimmage

I don’t set the bar, I’m in it

Serving shots to sloppy attendants

Accumulating tips and tricks of the trade

Like a street performer’s last second switch of the spade

The marionettes perform like a witch in a daze

Puppets never realize the allegoric expression

I’ve pulled the strings at a historic progression

Food for thought with no caloric ingestion

No more poor metaphors with euphoric depression

A sweet spot of ambivalence

A perfect storm for the artistic equivalence,

Of opening a third eye or having a view like a bird’s eye

It’s clearer no one can touch my pen

Every deadly seven and trust’s my sin

Iron will, cats and dogs rust my skin

David in front of Giants, we’ll see who wants to be the tough guy then

Armed with words like stones

I was raised a homebody that disliked home

If something doesn’t sit right on thin ice then it might flow

Rivers of tears cracked by quivers of fear

Bottles of salt delivered for years, 

Can only last so long when they boil and simmer sincere

It’s easy to see me as a supervillain

But ask civilians and they’ll say my truth is healing

The fruits are spilling and every tooth is loose with fillings 

Raw emotions never make apologizing notions 

The translation gets lost in commotion

Life or death I am who I am caught in the motions,

Poseidon talking with oceans

But the depth, is subjective

It’s left, to perception

It’s only right, in respect, to the question

I can only spell it out, 

It’s up to the culture to settle down and the language to tell it now

Focused on my transcendence 

The rope is transparent and endless 

The transition is seamless, ambition of demons 

If I was anything other than the embodiment of my work, I wouldn't work

I don’t cope for convenience

I just hope for some meaning, 

A purpose to it all

Is it worth it when I fall? 

Dust myself off and get back up

Me and my jet black luck

Every set back’s rough

Sometimes it pays to fake control,

Like nothing takes a toll

Many flavors to life but they’re all interchangeable

Finding joy in the little things is unobtainable,

When the bigger picture isn’t framable

Every decision holds a high price

I’ve stumbled through the darkness like blind mice

I’m just glad I can see 2020 in hindsight

Catastrophes catching the limelight,

Happiness after the mind’s right

Checking in on my mental wealth to see the profits I made

Money’s through the roof but I don’t have the pockets to save

Failing the same lessons I’ve learned

Building the same bridges I’ve burned

Rambling until my vision is blurred

‘Til the universe sits in an urn

I was born stardust, I speak in constellations

Talk divine when thoughts align, zodiac concentration

Saying a whole lot of nothing with infinite implications

Pondering existence for the simplest explanation.

Prayers to myself make for an interesting conversation

I’ll avoid responsibility down to the last echo

Gripping my sanity despite every urge to let go

Keep trying to apply a method, to the madness

But effort, feels elastic

Stretch it, then I snap it

The message, turns to plastic

Forever indebted, to the rabbit

A tortoise with no shortage

Of chances I took advantage of

I’m dangerous with my priorities sorted

Maybe it’s better that I can’t handle them

The reason why I can’t find my peace

Perhaps why I can’t put my mind at ease

Back to the wall, I’ve no spine to leave

I’ll know I’ve seen it all once I get my eyes to bleed

Reality is an opinion, nothing more or less

Something born of stress

Trauma fuels the engine,

And drives us towards our death

I’ve tried holding my tongue before my breath

But the bottle is empty,

And I’m for sure upset