One hundred lo lee years
hit the board again
be the white
read and read again
pull the tongue that licks the lips
hang em out by the sun
breaking with each moon

∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆
One hundred lo lee years
hit the board again
be the white
read and read again
pull the tongue that licks the lips
hang em out by the sun
breaking with each moon
Why is it hard to believe
In everything
Carelessly
Unattached to an outcome
Knowing only your own flesh
Legacy and all

I told myself I could be the best lover
Listen to me
I told myself I could form the fairytales with words and my own hands
With imagination and soul
Choosing to go where the sky bends
And the water calls me out and balances me
Soothed over as honey
On a chest so sweet
So deep dark and brown
Sitting under crowns
Floating on clouds
I believed it, yes I believed it


She was a mirror
An alignment
An embodiment
A step ahead
And I believed I loved her

