Daydream

The problem with pad and pencil
is that this is a self-perpetuating rhyme
that grows over time
To glisten ink over every piece of crinkled paper,
in my room, bordering the sides,
what am I supposed to do, when I
have more thoughts on paper then in mind?
I can't say the inspiration is clearly defined
in how I can easily pick you apart,
rhyme after rhyme,
and how these words can never be eternal,
time after time,
Maybe you feel my rhymes don't make sense,
I'll monkey mother-fucker and make you sit on the fence,
Try to keep up dumbass what are you dense?

Would you rather I slow this insane flow
to let others know that this shit ain't low-brow,
but if you've got the tactics and the know-how, inspiration,
by anything and don't wait for invitation
for your dreams, live your life until it bursts at
the seams, but now you're turning green
and in you decomposer's teem,
but don't worry, this was just a daydream.