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Mental Chess Is Like Thinking About Thinking

Make us pathetic
We were numb from the bottom up
Imbedded to start habits we can't finish
What I mean is
Wrecked from substance
One more time would've done it
Lungs of smoke 
Intentions are a joke.
Choke! or fall apart like a yolk.
This is your brain on love,
Our brain on love is the best thing that could of happened in a month, 
at least since the last struggle
That left us belly up on a rug, 
vomiting is rough 
when it goes on for days
And depletes your gut funds.
Pardon my explicit description among
My thoughts
That are strung
Across my brain with nikes,
and run.
Breath heavy,
 this devil just met me
but it swears it knows the best me
On the low key wrecks me
But I'm forgetting
It affects me.
Real killer.
Real problems.
Real stress.
Real debt.
Real mess.
Nothing left.
Like un-attraction to the skin they're in.
Can't win,
Can't change within.
Wipe my hands again
And fly off the swing and exit the playpen
Connections and reflections
Constantly tested
Messed with
Un-rested Failed success methods
What the stress did
It made me a wreck,
Fall apart to fall together
With sanity left.
Exit the playpen
I don't wanna stay in,
Forever remember
The place I didn't make it.
The place that was a matrix
And took me to foreign places
Seen so many faces
Faded and blank stares
I'm living for over there.
Putting myself together like a puzzle
Without the corners,
But I still cared to be a player.

Copyright © Patrick Farley IV | Year Posted 2017


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