Feral I Is

I'm skitching on the last bus outta here's bashed in bumper
found four days later
floundering full head under rust on rubber
moss covered as the last day of my boss on mother
and I'm skitching the wish pit ravenous maul agnostic
with every single reason to back it / no bitching
cover all lands / a champion steady handed
the front and back of both hands believe that
non frantic what I take I do so cold headed
seemingly coming across spastic
I got tornadoes and tropic storms under control
like I don't need to be told chaos is passion
and nah I never planned it
the seeds scatter right where I need them
and from the jump that's the variable
that's what's aligned a ritual
yea that's what's random
rolling in tandem with the question
of legitimacy lost in the apex
of the individual's ceiling of intimacy
god is the numbers
hunkered down I got the gal's gown
and I'm familiar with the codex
so I'ma buck up
and show face blasted hotter than summer
better than a run of the mill truck stop mucker
popping pills butterflies in the steel grill no other
conflicts disguised butter in the pan fries
burn rubber out'a the cover and straight for the kill
I been taught so well by all of my brothers
and sisters my mother god bless the woman
who showed me how to build a wetter
fiercer / safer kind of shelter
scatter matter faster myself is the latter
like forlorn raindrops to bring the pieces together
the purpose of the hurricane cannot be forgot
feral I is and feral I begot
feral I is and feral I'm gone
feral I is and feral I begot
feral I is and feral I'm gone

Blue

My cigarette filter's tip is rough
and cuts my lip as I drag
pull away and cough

the stinging spot of blood
offers me a glimpse
a hint towards birthday ribbons

wishes pulled from my mouth
stifled by the smoke
and my last honest glint attempt
at finally
saying something beautiful.