Respiration

Standard

I live in a city that ain’t living,
I perceive a barren distance between hardened hearts and busy indifferent collision,
Strangers caught up in real real dreams,
I breathe in what I can’t take, I see what is hard to compress,
So much of my mind is a cave obscuring a hidden evening,
The city is used to never stopping, I write a story out of beats and rhymes,
Using poems to grab on to the gravity of meaning and things like quantum significance,
Is there any hope left for all of these lost arguing, blasting deeper into the hardcore vacuum…?
my sins are always deceiving, I am the flesh of this fallen city,
Darkness is my spirit, Evil roams my eternal struggles,
Who is on top of this..? Bad words are indisputable narcotics,
The young abandoned kids are on the road to becoming punks and robbers,
Social Wounds are open and the light illuminates it for all to see.
I haven’t found words yet for things that I feel but I can’t express since
I am a slave to existence,
they catch me off guard like a masked assassin,
There is a Godly longing keeping us all from murdering each other.
I wrestle with this paradox of my own inner malady,
I am wrestling always with impacts, emotions and verbs,
Being normal and raw will make you a patient of fatal causality,
The Moon is not arguing while we are bustling and wrestling with
demons and fallen sinful carnal instincts,
I am the Batman of this despicable metropolis,
I am the Batman of this village town that has to be treated with favoritism like a preferred child,
I spit open knowledge, so capture the wisdom from the air,
and seldom rest like bright stars and nervous inner emotions.