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The Cycle

Inciting, Freestyling, Escribing, Memorizing, Reciting, Inviting an Audience, Re-Cycle-ing...

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Reboot Ep. 5

Where the break-down begins
and continues
continues
but where does it end?

...
...
...

Sanity
By: Uriah CivILLian Walters

Please level with me. I need to tell a speech that tells ya "help ya peeps, especially when medleys of good times dont settle these stressing dreams." But they told me I need a lesser theme than what was naturally expected of me. Thus I siddled softly with a soundless esophagus, lost to what I should do with my haikus in high noon. I was suggested to distort their message, and set a horde of wreckage along their forts to test em. But can I give this moral lesson to these more or less men whom would sport my sessions and support my next trend with a core alledging? The world is filled with deep speakers, and nay sayers all relaying the same saying each evening. Just condemnation of street heathens with leech feenings for bleak weekends bleeding seepings. With expectations to follow suit with no questions asked, I felt sort of bad for this lifelong chore I had. Support my past and ignore my habits. It's more important that my orders passed down to me afford a path. I'm steaming pouring sad, seeking for a rag until I can reforge a plan of reachingly alluring ads.

I half suspected Math and Tetris brought a step of wreckage. Im grasping lecture sessions, mad at my profession. Am I supposed to sit collecting dust, while asking questions of, religion, politics and sexist love? Before we go deeper the sessions up. A few seconds is not enough to evaluate the problems you're thinking of. I met a guy who told me brainless is a language. Its natives are famous, proclaiming we embrace it. I stood adjacent because as I heard him say it I noticed how he looked faceless displacing my thought engagement. My brain shifted to this sane rift. It ripped in the fabric of my planet of man ways, mane I couldnt main-age. Attaining what he's yapping in a dull face that sported a lulled pace showed his heavily involved days. How could a simple puppet preach to me? No scrutiny, leave it be. It just caught me oddly all his remedies. I couldnt help but wonder if his words applied to me or if I should be rivaling this bridal theme our minds'll cling to. But then he said "don't worry. If you gotta think about the things that come out my meaningless mouth you'll be fine." Now I'm seeking routes more freedom endowed. Or should I say freedomly bound?

Please level with my antics and thoughts that were built on a bridge with someone walking it, passing a torch, ‘til he badly got scorched and fell to the ground, which meant within a snippet of an instant, he done blazed his limbs and anatomy’s form.

Burning my bridges, adding on gasoline and match-stick reeds. Stacks of leaves and branch rippings in a trashed city of a masterpiece.

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