102 degrees does not rival what your eyes convey Trickle of sweat Parched mouth Labored breathing One more thing will sinch my demise “Baby…I miss that mouth.” I’m a puddle.

Black, white – White, black How many times the rhymes return to: No going backAnd now We have a uniform of nothingness to place upon the form To go out into the storm Like sheep amidst the slaughter. SonDaughter. Sun Moon. Follower Occulted into The cult. Not I: NWP til I Die***Cipher Poems ***  

Could you go on If you felt you couldn’t goOn..? Could you be strong if you could no longer be Strong..? Is this the point we reach. As the point of all this..? To be so fucked up You cannot get Up..? Observing the direction existence seems to be swerving for the deserving&Undeserving. I say I...