Pain As a Hobby Iv

You went off the screen Never to be seen Can’t find you on google You don’t even tweet Like Tweet I feel like smoking cigarettes No, I’d rather scream But who will hear me Because it makes a sound in the inside As it breaks to pieces. As it goes up in flames Only ashes remains. Just when you thought I was finished This is not poetry this is a handbook Pain as a hobby continues An artist, like myself and others I’m sensitive about my s*** Deadlier than the bombs that went over Hiroshima I’ll cover the door enough so you don’t get hurt by the toxic fumes When I’m done my name will be synonymous with Picasso Hum, what I’m I serving up today? This is God’s gifting I hope I’m not using it wrong I just lay it on you and serve it cold You can heat it up and don’t forget to eat the bones It’s like throwing pearls before swine Jesus you inspire me with your words so much I’m adopting them as "my precious" I hope to make you proud of me I’m your advocate Tavarus M. Moreland read the credit line My word play and intelligence quotient have an unlimited shopping spree I don’t need the Black Card I have Ken Chenault on speed dial My words are prophectic The power of life and death reside in the words Who is that? Who is he? I’m the one that is refreshing your memory The one you almost forgot about You bloggers are about as deep as puddles in the streets I’m trafficking on you Avoiding you at all costs because I can see right through you Not even good enough to step on Put a clap on Do you ever read that crap before you type it out on the keyboard, put your fingers up I’m handcuffing your fingertips. I'm charging you with reckless keyboard endangerment!