Vanish

I’m just a misanthropic bubonic topic, pushin demonic
Intoxicant droppin chronic that’ll make you catatonic
I won’t fuck with a sonnet, shit just gives me dry heaves
Lately I’ve been hating trees for creating jaded falling leaves
But I’d never hate the sun for baking them to death
Cuz then I’d have to hate the nebula that first gave it breath
The galaxy, universe, and everything up above
The malice keyed in this verse is what every king is made of
Who knew I had a knack for this, backpacking rap and shit
Captive with fear of abandonment branded parataxic
Blasting off into the ravenous mandibles of Hannibal
Looking back into the dark beyond hope for something magical
Trachea split, blatant pain to break the abyss
Picking locks to hearts rusted over from shit and piss
Lists of master vixens casting spells beyond physics
Havoc ridden and frost bitten from wise guy gimmicks
I came wrapped in plastic, tragedy in a package
And that quack bag lady dropped me head first in the basket
My mind was shattered, and they didn’t grab the receipt
So they taped me up the best they could and threw me on my feet
But my knees feel weak, though I don’t think I show it
If I shut my eyes for too long I think I’m gonna blow it
These bandages are skin color and I keep rotos in my eyes
A painted smile and bright eyes to round off the disguise
Despite my twisted non fiction and malicious conniptions
I’m gripping the system and picking up lively ambitions
Conniving and viscous, don’t blink or you’ll miss us
Blister pus and wrist cuts gutted tracheas for fist pumps
And wishes turned to fiction from blitzing prescriptions
For sick diction mixed vicious with lively descriptions
And mystery twisted up in a crispy bliddy blunt
Who the fuck gave you permission to be a wicked cunt?
I happened to pick you up in the midst of sinister history
It did to me what’s meant to be and bent levels of treachery
Let heaven see this messy beast you made yourself out to be
And proudly crowd the clouded balcony that sadness seeds
This bastard has a hankering for banking on mangy things
Clipping angel wings and basking in the pain of screams
I hang my painted razor blades shaded in hunger pangs
For days past when I believed the lies told where bells rang