Slugger

I'm always rolling in magic, I'm always flowing in tragic rap.

My back just snapped, aligned spine, but where's the sensation of static?

Mapped the classic Catholic trap of nothing matters but loving chapters.

I'm touching the One and suffering a lung infection.

Rhyme a song and mention the time I was wrong about ascension.

It's a profound correction, like I was bound for rejection and the sound was a reflection of my doubt.

An expression of depression.

"What's it all about?!"

I'm sensing the sensor, getting tenser as I'm pressured by the weather.

Pleasure, I'm wetter, forever I'm never getting treasure.

Forgetting that I'm always in the center.

More ways through the doorways I would enter through thought. Man, could they talk.

I stand in Awe, then demand that I wanna see more!

I hover, expand my other, ick ban my lover.

Which hand do I disband? The slugger.