No Meaning

I can't just sit here and create meaning, fake steaming a dream, hate leaming, fate scream "Great intervening!".

It's too late to be achieving an interstate heaving. Why can I not know that I am?

I have a psychology mind state and in my heart is a robot prime mate. Responsibility falls with the nuances calling monsters upon this rhyme I make.

It's time that I wake; tell you all that I'm'ma fake: that everything I say when I'm'ma haul and die Today.

When I'm'ma fall they'll say "That Mother Fucker went upon a strange land and became a deranged man, I cannot believe that he achieved something beyond even to be perceived by man".

What dose that even mean to be a sham? Weren't you literally a man? I don't understand? Visually and officially weren't you a human?

Now, this Truman Show is over and I'm'ma super-human with'a super-duper lyrical shooter. I'm'ma nonsensical with'a tyrannical way that inspired Hannibal Lecter to sit and stay. Nice doggy, now go play.

Clarice and I are heading to the bedroom and I can't have you feasting an eye on the beast within I; it freaks upon the sight on the moon, breathes upon the Dwight of thune.

It might frighten you when I be biting through, crawling on the floor going-spider-view. In spite of you saying, No, I'm inside of you, got you saying "Tally-ho, I'm valley hoe. Do you love me?" I say "I love soup but shes hears "I love you too.

Her peers have fears that she might be involved in the towns next disappearance and this girls parents won't have closure because there's no disclosure.

I'm'ma Bipolar composer with lyrical bifocals over my eyes, the closer that I focus on-to osmosis these bifocals fog up with what I watched get dug up when I dislodged when I forgot who I was.