Wriiting in silence in the room my thoughts...tossed with the combination of the population an their view on my past an present. Taking away my gifts I call em backstabbers to meet my flip, my insides showing yelling and screaming the scene potent flourished and fufilled. I'm pilled taken by the mouth of the others like I don't have a name. Like I dont have a way in this world your are the cause of my swirl my mix my bend of the rules where anything but the pools of her eyes matter. A unknown language for math calculating the basics back to my four front so that I may stand crucified until there is nothing left but the cool relaxed finished product of something beaten to perfection. Direction...are we to know if we are led by breadcrumbs dropped feeding of the plot. When will this stop? I ask myself that question then I just give myself one more reason to continue...so aaahhh what else is on the menu?