An Artists Inner-Demons

Neurosis imposes osteoporosis through Ouroboros like locusts Focus is broken so just blitz like Germans in Poland Anxiety lies to me and starts fighting me in 451 degrees Mind exploding like Boeing 747 Max's with 157 casualties Survival is a trial to lift my kind Wallpaper's yellow, might be more mellow if you play the cello Dog's not yellow, might go mental if I use this pencil Friends got Orwellian messages or their Machiavellians Adrenaline from conversation with close ones is my situation But I might have lied and blighted their mind and life Haitian earthquake or hurricane on lunch break on Sunday Someday I will have graffiti on my frame of shame but why be pessimistic or mystic when there's optimistic Everyone'll listen but'll flip it and'll miss it optimism is a trick but pessimism is acidic My cerebrum's still noxious, filled with toxins filled with acid and plastic that saran wraps victims I'll always be Rambo and go all Van Gogh But in the Kola Borehole, I'm vulnerable The great filter awaits to kill the big Schizophrenic or angelic, a soldier or murderer or Belic Felon making ends for a family of ten is Satanic But sit back, don't worry, relax with hats off To Kraków we're off, coming back we're not Life is sweeter when you're ignorant At least until you get into it