Held hostage by the command of a silver screen,
Behind the stainless; the monks are the jury.
Disappointment in your prayers,
Oppressed by the gold grill, due to the fear of interrogation; I sneeze out an incisor.
The blessed: you’ve been equipped with the fortune of a calm wave,
Grin so you can peep my deception.
Closed mouthed prayers not a whiff of acceptance.
Plus the signal is low,
The mic is dry & any more moisture would be on the security clearance of the “need to know”.
Steep steps & a tight rope,
Emo fonts for the lease on my black boat,
In the middle of my Truman exit & my compass is a liar.
GPS claims I’m home already; so how do you explain this sulphur?
There’s cracks on my cloud painted walls
& Shit’s Creek left me without a paddle.
The lease on the fantasy was eighteen,
& now I’m watching the desolation of a kingdom.
Smaug took it better,
Baggage is for ‘Bagginsis’; still not content with the fate of one.
Rule them all, graciously.
Welcome the new crowned clown prince of potential.
The joke’s on you.
The crown stolen was of thorns, of a whore:
Renamed the universe “Pilate” once fate was cast from my feet.
You have the rivers to be cleansed,
I’ll swap gin bottles for closure.
Pages, since you wondered what you’ve read.
(So you’ll never be alone.)
Watching movies with such arm room,
I can even chew loud as shit,
The echoes could be haunting but you’re J-Hova’s favourite flick.
– The Rager
Written by Oladeji Odumosu