[Zenith Rod]

A cat once told me that art isn't another world.


It's used to interpret and find your stance where it matters.
It can take you to the depths of your imagination,

but you'd have to face the real world.

+


Engaged with something that might get me nowhere.
Crestfallen, I sit back and listen to the snare.

No point in writing rhymes if meaning becomes meaningless.
Silence feeds on isolation, clout drowns in weakness.


Gape with an inert gaze at a million achromatic pixels.
Try to juxtapose contemplation with the silliness of riddles.
Force myself to break away from the enveloping ambivalence.

I can't even use the word omnipotence in a sentence.

There will come a time and a place,

where every man will break, lost in his mind, lose his suitcase.
The question is if he'll fight and be great.
"Fall seven, Stand up eight."


A simple beat constructed, an uncomplicated tone.
A vision that's true and bold, still quite unknown.

Living life's a challenge, you better hit the pavement.
I just use lyrics to make a generation statement.


+

Just let the beat loop.

Wish I could sing.
Wish I could have a chorus.
Say the same thing at the same time.

Utter something with someone.
Be her melody.


+

Emotions always blaze up and down throughout a song.

Monotonous divisions that become very withdrawn.
Ironic how you set a theme, turn around and knock it down.
Try to be extensive, intricacies arise, add a brutal twist -- you frown.


Tossing and turning in a ninety-degree stance.
Melancholy affixed to a broken-hearted man.

Canorous afflictions lingering through every view.
Don't think I could love another as I've loved you.


But it doesn't always have to be a disconsolate composition.
Common sense dictates that happiness is a needed acquisition.
Instead of breaking symphonies, disintegrating four movements;

forge rhythmic balladry for amu!@&(t and improvement.

Between the part where things were upbeat and things are at their worst.

A powerful phenomenon which I thought wouldn't disperse.
I promised myself I wouldn't let go.
Bleeding red, surrounded by snow.


++


What can I say?
Reality is a cruel place.
In my dreams, I'd wake up on the right side of the bed.

In reality, I still can't believe all the things I've said.