Novocaine: The Day to Day Basis

                                                         Novocaine: The Day  to Day Basis

l. Lets take a step out of the script, my vision frequently creating, reshaping this parade, but what I am I to make of this deflating essence, Sick of all the questions, I’d like to take a step one day, without being a critic. My vision isn’t a known decision, I guess that's why its ruining me, with every schisming thought, I’m envisioning all that was once taught go right out the window. You give me the power to see a different tent, are you near me,  can I breathe a different scent, because this current air is sentencing me to death. I’m the making of you and I’m taking everything you drew . Give me the original so I can misconstrue and get burned by this misused fire. I’m eternally sorry, but I’m here on this plain, and I’m taking a beating, like I street fight verse yourself, You gave me fire, before I was able to tactfully know this fire was higher. Forget the world war and open the doors I’m traveling on a street of trash, stifling through the ash looking for my past. I’m not sure how it ever happened, but I guess that continual burn, had a bit of sweetness to it. I guess you’d say I built a dependency on chasing the fire, holding it to my skin, so that's the taste of bad, so then its gotta be straight up from there. A daily dose of destruction and unraveling so that when I go out, I’m all smiles and grins. If it keeps me from all the hurts that lay around and contour me back to the drawing board. It’s a worldly Novocaine I'm out cold, and the pain is untold, so I’ll keep pushing forward. I’ve done it one way and I don’t wanna stay. Murmured round the world you’ll hear people say “its to help the weak to survive”, but if that’s what its like to survive, crawling from New York to California on nothing but the soles of your hands and the skin on your stomach. then I’m aiming to thrive. So go head yeshua nother challenge, cause you’ll just prove my fathers talents.

ll. Slither and slide, societies my forest. I walk around like a tourist, you can walk by and I’ll flourish in my oceanic mind but you’ll leisurely walk by and coach the inner manic I’ll return the look, to unturn the built up hooks, I’m swimming in my mind as I’m contwined between the walls, I’m standing in a one by one. Hoping for something to come, because I’m coming undone. Like a baseball that's seen too much time. It just takes that accurately measured blow to begin the rip of one seam, and then with that one rip, attracts that person who was always curious to see what's on the inside, because it was never obvious to me with you alluring voice and your charmful words you're grabbing the scissors and the razor blade, but its never evident that you're trying to make the danger fade, so with every little incision, I’m not questioning your permission. Everyone wants the fruit and never the peel, but my fruit has already been looted. It’s like I bloom once a year, so father I yearn for your peace and rest, because my decentness has faded, like the blue moon. And I’m stuck here living in open season, because with every positive thought, there’s always a shell of buck-shot to bleed it thin and make me question if I’ll ever get a second wind. I need your life and compassion as a lily pad needs to set on a stream. I use to be lively and bright-eyed until someone lit the stakes that quickly dried out this pond and I’m sitting there looking for water but all there is fire. But in all these attempts to gulliver my travels, every piece of gold has to be run through inspection, so I guess I must be pretty valuable if this fire is so malleable. When I’m smiling don’t try and defile it, because I’m a lamp that's connected to the most-high.







lll.  I can have peace of mind when the end times come, when I don't have the strength, and destruction wipes his feet at my door ready to go twelve rounds. The secret to right thinking is right living, so why am I in bed: tossing and turning in my vitriol, covering up with shame, using guilt to support my head and neck; laying in this bed, this cesspool I’m through being bound at the temples because I have to wrestle with a gator with every step, because the bar has been lowered to compensate my infamy, but the longer this enemy draws near to me, it raises my resiliency  giving some validity, to a thing I call faith, my anchor; The standard of living has to be reinstated after a spiritual emancipation, we’re looking for the river basin, because we’ve seen your grace we’ve had a little taste and with your steadfast haste you’re quickening the pace,  you say come to the river, drink from the cup I pour because in the absence of caring for every nook and cranny of my soul, your unending mercy is eclipsing all the self-induced holes and curing the plague ridden cloth of my heart, cause I’m not going to walk around treasuring my life like its the only thing that matters, because if you carry your hourglass in your hands, trying to protect it , at the end of the day you’ll find it smashed in a moments neglect; I’m only here on a sixty year layover I’ll give you my blood and sweat, because I know altruism comes at cost, but when I pour myself out and lay it in your hands  with every fiber and DNA strand; I’m feeling a little tired and bits and pieces get lost in transit, but I know, like a lamp, where my next recharging is coming from.