for n

01 atlas and his cities 02 if earth invites demon play 03 moss knowbodhi

slide intertwined snakes; aboard with no destination.

wait.

train rocks grinding sparks igniting no words; read loud tracks written, - rock, beat.
come claim ancient souls lights dim flashing vivid
hallucinate
telepathic interludes background buzzing seats red lined.

blood drips teeth drop colour cascades, glints eternal.
pattern circles curled corners tearstained.

moments passes look up jean stained legs, look down. hat, no eyes.
entertain eden battle storms concrete channeled;
smoking area shadows, a cig and a baggy.
drift carparks echo stairs silver Mercedes, open bags, work.
watching the stairwell.

speak in code developed silent.

iris curves burn atlas pauses concrete glows burnt chassis day-glo paint walls injured. no evidence, a masked schizophrenic.
adverts move grope attention screen blades and pianos silenced pixels bleeding

systems motivate themselves, spin unknown timeless, concrete apathy, roots sharded, shattered, acceptance.

central london boroughs; nfc chips embedded.
card security touch plastic all connect host centralised hacked, smoked, leaning, a shadowed wall, an abandoned passageway; the street is so crowded.
sellers friends exs badmen couples buyers suits opportunists writers shop signs that it is
difficult to notice her. 4:14AM. disconnect. walk outside.

placebo everywhere.

haphazardly hand her a burnt and twisted baggie, skin changed lizard, beggar change blizzard, decline offers, queen lizard slight smile, smoke a journey together, it is the same
nothing
new
injected into fingers chorded out hillside
the beach fucking worthless.

evolved from blinking, morse code; thumb flicks - head bowed, robotic scripts;

lv11: did they make you take anything
SPT: they give me a script
lv11: inside dotted and noted?
SPT: anything they never described
lv11: garden

SPT: later

the state faults
suburban cracks
blackedout pavements
smashed
hammered
scattered with
shrapnel
there is no change.

boudicca; you do not write lol

[click to edit]

the circutry embedded behind the emotional response will not save your message.

babylon dictates greys, our soundsystems levitate, our monks named degenerates.

the skyline illusion strengthens egos looking-glass sharded buildings shatter daylight rising high above the roadman - he owns busstops yards - only allowed in the bedrooms for transactions. fares. look up. they can only eden man. credit borrowed cash earnt one pound illegal one million legal worldwide babylonia marketplace dictates companies but the Company is not known to exist. the roadman keeps the gangsta a secret from civilians. we land destructive patterns and kingly intentions with each shot. the cokeheads argue at night but take their bit happily at first light, their skyline an illusion. at night the buildings are 2D and empty. it is important to note, lines he knows.

"convert weapons into instruments of peace"

thru taller projx he meets old money knife to throat.

"my tounge recites what no man can bear to hear"

stoned glass buildings crack their interior design sofa and draped velvet comforting. truth dawns poverty; he must fight or flee.

"unsheathe the sword of your tounge from the scabbard of utterance, for therewith ye can conquer the citidales of men's hearts."

another night bus home, sloshing thru bloodstained streets as another brother is knifed, no regrets by law.

"leave them in the past time of their vain disputes"

when the sunfire calls for their blood we cease hissing and rise up.

not often enough.

"adorn them with ornaments"

we return to individual cells in individual cells in individual cells mitosis missing. the city spreads commercial subtle waves of knowledge, the buses the brains, their drivers our longest ally or a temporary tyrant. we try to avoid sheets, we prefer the vial or the crystalised moonlight catching the background of our iris and chemically combining god with our soul. they lock us down out of jealousy. we stole the entire earth when they flew in their planes. fly them better; more lights. no regrets by law.

"should one king rise up against another, all the other kings must arise to deter them. arms are no more needed beyond that which is necessary to insure the internal security of their respective countries."

nuclear knowledge profits only manhatten. california pours through speakers and television screens, a hunter s hallucination. they still hang inmates, name it suicide, the state is one worldwide; it survives under David's stars.

"in these days enemies have compassed Us about, and the fire of hatred is kindled."

the carnival has been sabotaged, the ones who introduce locks, dreaded, no longer friendly. they kept their parents fortunes instead of outing them to the cause, they embody murderers and thieves; we become the same, our tarot predicts.
dead

spirits seperated served up on sidewalks silently ignored. skip town, duck in blocks. spirits connect, worldwide web, we get the calls. Bathory speaks through a mouth in Croydon shedding her own blood written in modern America as the army loses its best soul to Fact. she spreads timeless agape whispering feathers to jugular veins killing like paragraphs with crocodile teeth waterfalling priceless crystal.

only the earth is allowed to drink.

advocates blooddrenched feet trail pawprints across the corridors. a patient follows tounge to laminated surface. he throws up in his hair and smiles for the first time in a decade. the israelis manifest nothing but chinese technology. immerse yourself in the scent of my words, we fly above this hell and behold earth as it is. more than one is allowed to know. streets no studio. all books are scripture and all scripture is HipHop and all HipHop mentiones the One. the forest glints and glimmers eternal, i fall into the boughs particles mixed souls interwined eyes open. the Tounge outdates English and Latin combined; a pebbles echo in time's chamber.

they fight under the same god, betting on each outcome, the deserts travelling east to west by the millenia.

time.

some names do not translate well, multiply your efforts. hug. You send down the food of Your utterance out of the heaven of Your bounty, and he smoked it, travelled to the soft waters of mercy and returned to the city.

i do not know how many times i communed with the devil.

we are both leaves from the same branch.

grandfather's name was made up.

pack up his crown; kingly laughs echo dracula's footsteps, tender tones scattered before the floor falls into vacant emptiness drowning rhythms pestering whispers
we do not exist in hallways
you thought her dying when she slept, sleeping when she died; we would cry but our tears are Russian bullets, the Queen's thoughts American accented.
towns dead for the footsteps; bare feet falling thru the soles, kissing the earth and dancing in the sun
a black hole awakened by love.

dominate victimise popular money
walk be wise burn time away

two step conversation starlit
distant, sharded
words loaded
time defeated, we're free in the breeze and we imagine your LSD, we've even got walls which preach -
wordless
like the world.

fake, pathetic, your skin stretched hanging from my walls,
i'm still carving life into geometric patterns translating equations foreign
truth louder than the smell.

water dripping on stone, nobody, gloomy relief: I'''m saved
Zamyatin spent his whole life avoiding writing We
psychedelia left unpenned art unwritten
cut from the play before his march from concrete to mud
dig foundations rust earthwind horror

thoughts wavelength superscript eight sideways lean
we all speak
140bpm keep the frequencies deep
bury deeper
minds misread pages half ink half toner
lines that give the Holy Ghost a boner

there is space in our ancient forest
each tree channeling passages
maps for East London alleyways
bloodstained comfort and shot out ice cream parlours
the Beat prevails in Kerouac's final paragraph
dead profits suits cremated named suburban warfare

biocentric organisms fifty deep
squidgy.