I’ve peeled this tounge, in… attempt to reach the source of my insufficient words- And the layers sting, the letters sing… or scream, to me it’s the same- But all the dried up sentences I found, were already heard- I’m quite tired of the same- So I dismantled the mouth with shame- Just to reach the core, my heart- And with slight precision I disassembled each vein- Watching ink call out my name, or perhaps scream- To me it’s all the same- Hanging walls, losing all the little life that pumped each thought- And what held that thought together, was found, already caught- Unsatisified, seems my insides lied, I find no originality- The same old words, stamped different ways, just different order… bless my insanity- I ripped through this trickling organ, and broke passed… inside of me- And met the soul with ambition, I seek discovery- Of words more beautiful than gold, and as rare as those god has seen- Convinced my spirit, that the soul has written a scripture that’s been lost- And my mental humanity needs to retrieve it by all costs- I fought dimensions, melting phrases I had made- Stuck between the guardians, taking care of heavens gates- And they bled beauty, diamond poems, singing atoms which combined- Into screaming metaphors, I use discreetly in my lines- But all had been seen before, and as I broke through belted gates- The only thing left unprotected, was a pencil, and a page…