When you’ve bind yourself to other’s shoes but you got lily foot

When you’ve stick your nose to empathize but you got broken nose

When you cower to the crackling of knuckles – in a series of ten – like a fireworks

Release the tense, lift your chin. The sound is just an air between your bones

It doesn’t even reach an inch of nihility; it’s just a puff of bravado

In an unreleased accumulation of all the pains in perpetual motion

When life cycle begins to saunter the nine rings of hell

But your mortal flesh can only bear third degree burn and is considered critical

But think about the monks in the temple with their tedious training using psyche

Tampering the earthen vessel to become a steel. An aspirant to become Buddha

(The highest title a mortal can get until a golden decree is pass to transcend)

They can stamp the finish line with their soul intact and flesh without burns

Blink the lid and behold the portal to your soul. There’s a glow.

Where the picture is twisted into pixel; and vice versa to form a mirror

Whereby reflecting the light from the fireworks enjoying how you close your eyes

And stoop in front of a monolithic shadow wherefore is a shadow player

In a veil of obscurity he clothes himself in a raiment of umbra and penumbra

He smiles to you, and you stoop more bending in a ninety- degree angle

You are enclosed in an orb of saccharine in a pot of poisonous ivy

Turning your back to the world, you grab a rotten placenta

And you eat the pain while the pain is eating you.

Always remember to listen to your pain because you created him

But when you find the glitch in a matrix, the illusion is shattered

You, once again, can fly with the seagulls in the sky.

The feeling of pained is like a chained heart in a forgotten post

Like a horse worm in the belly of praying mantis

Entwining the small intestine sucking the nutrients to the brim

Until it grows long that it starts to creep to your brain:

The mouth is in your small intestine while the anus is in the inside

The nutrients are flash to void, the excrement poisons your mind

Wriggling worms that suck your ganglia until every port is their redoubt

I don’t know the best way to kill them yet dipping your toe is okay

But drowning yourself among bodies of water is out of the equation

The premise is: the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach

So the best way to puncture his heart is to prick his gut

But when the head is seized the game is checkmate

Brain and heart of different matter, have different waves

Yet under the scalpel: the former is numb, the latter is aching

The brain has waves that is twice the heart

While the heart has a magnetic suction that can cleanse the mind

The gut when pricked is quite sour – the acid is burning

The premise is: the best way to a girl’s heart is through her sole

So the best way to turn her feet cold is through her eyes

Then the pigment of life in a solvent of pain, though – maybe extinguished

But the solvent is now red, it is still life. Meet the pain head bang.