M_D from EBB & FLOW by iota arcane

Just another day in paradise, Three pairs of dice a slice of life on a tortilla like pita, live in flats, it a wrap at the end of day to day, the finish of theatrical play on rewind, we grind it
to a dust like substance, trust this, little to do with a lot, cause unexplainable back spasms,
from the convulsions from the blinking screens on plasms, with phantasms glancing at her and I, while orgasms, splash the anthems, memory game match this creak to that freak, zombie brain eater, tripod motorcycle 5 seater leather road rash guard wife beater, oh this past Easter was a heater, the audience didn’t agree either, or neither damn that beaver, block my water, I’m gonna get DWP on your bill of a baseball cap, Bust a cap in a rap, and smack the sarcasm out a cataclysm, montage, Smooth Jazz for that AZZ, I made this to listen to while pretending to be somebody, anybody, in any body, shells and any shotty, scabs are so blood clotty, I’m tacky played poker last week next to an Iraqi, told me he was born in Babylon, laughed at me as I babbled on, mentioned how powerful are the meek said some of us troops bagged his dad in Baghdad, but it wasn’t that bad he learning to not hold grudges for me people and we human beings at the end of a subtraction equation equal as NutraSweet to sugar like German and their Ruger or Luger with a superman Lex Luther Vandross Never Too much forever, for always for love, for the dove tranny pigeon toed night crawler streetwalker, only remembrance is the outline they chalked up, I remember the feeling when I first arrived like the guy who died was right there outside of the body, hairs on the arms stood straight up with a nose I couldn’t breathe through oh so snotty, I find mystical patterns give the light like darkness when you introduce a lantern to the scenery make friends with what intersects like insects. Flutter wings shutter things like eyelids are the blinds which make me blind wish i could see til infinity with some sort of remember me Well, La Di Fricken Da, No matter what you want you will and have gotten nothing and better like it, like a knuckle sandwich for lunch in the fight pit, My name is mud like Michael Jackson Sequined paul bearer gloves to the select Special Members of the Fight Club.

• Electronic
• Experimental
• Poetry
• SpokenWord
• creative
• hip hop
• mixtapes
• noise
• poetry
• rap
• Death Valley Junction