\"THINK; Know Truth, WRITE: Know Truth, READ; Know Truth\" imagined, theorized, partly written, and typed by: King B. Rite - The Poet/Psycopath
J\'tu Orion Zathaniel R. - The Depicter/Narrator
Pxalm: IV; Intravenously VzalXENy
Enigmatomathematics of existencessencessential...
Energy, explosion, existence, mind... body... soul... Experience, explanation, belief, creation, chaos, who is at fault... I point my view of hypothesis, an unrespected perspective; to answer with a rhetorical question with opinion, is to prove nothing is nothing; every and all at once more than once a moment ago upon a thought of energy exploded the existence of a mind; to acknowledge it had a body to bestow a soul; to experience only to explain belief created chaos... G.enius O.ver D.enial: an honest mistake gone insanely wishingless... I take credit and full responsibility for my own actions, the consequence an unforgettable confession metaphorically written with analogies to show that not all that is read can stop the blood flow of an unstoppable force; in syn xight, velocity of.… Each mourn can uprise the het of hate in the form of a horizon out of the weak; slaves awaiting the release of kings ejaculation, critically acclaimed to be anticipated with anxious patience THE WAIT is no more... Hear me ROAR... I Master with confirmation. Lower than dirt specimens that once took a chance to jump the gun and pull their own hair trigger of a selfish claim of trying to know and/or figure out a solid thought figment’s objective... With out entering the intertwining matter that exist from within, double helix; it is... Sufficient permission to ENTER my jurisdiction, to go insane, to think outside the limits of being embodied by captivity, imprisoned, and forbidden to be unveiled, unmasked, and defleshed as a slave and ill be the psychologist to therapy with a shocking theory that insane slave matters with a twist, turn of events can periodically table the contents of experience into existence, my tongues continue to hiss...
Slaves should hesitate before they judge my hate, i cause emotions to be effected, tsunaminating it is to be disabled by a hurricane, the pressure of a whisper can ripple the tide into a noose; i hang the heads of the dead in shame, regretful doubt and disrespect... in my direction, i will erect with explosion of an eruption, a volcanic reaction... I spit on the ones that saliva my name for my face can resist to be clinched, i pay attention to no other, figments of imagination are easily ignored; dead to Xhe Xnly Xne that can manipulate mental matter and take a step forward in Evilution to destruct the masses with facts over fiction, overly fabricated dramatically with exaggeration to meet the low standards of short attention span, ignorant and narrow... The Sky Above is by far a mythmatical vystical metaphor The Corridor; KINGDOM, COME... Is where I EXIST. I will not come down from my palace, not once, not twice, not xeven thrice... ONCE UPON A moment ago is one to many moments ago... Along came a King to enclosed open arms to show selfish affection with chest pounding infliction and clinch fists to match the facial expression that take no regards in their own existence to place ignition in confrontation, lack of concern, commentless and questioned in a interrogation; where are answers to their actions ... I am more than they can imagine. Sick to my solar plexus and tired of being exhausted to the mind, in my palace alone i feel liberated from all the white lies that can not even be analogized as blanken pages for blanken pages soon have their own moment to be written upon with blood that has been sacrificed; drip per drop... The rotten teeth of King have been pulled once, twice, thrice from a thief... What kind of a thief takes a bite out of filthy hands; more than enough is enough; that can not be chewed by a mouth occupied by gossip, bloody gums bite no tongue, then shortly after returning to the scene, in the heap of desperate measures only to give a slightest bit of credit, i spit on an unwelcome transaction, insufficient TRUST can go a long way out... I appreciate the HATE i return every even exchange with the right to refuse business with any pathetic prosthetic that prostitutes their emotions with a rapid rabid reaction... Barking up The Wrong Tree i leave it all behind with each leaf of mine, hyperactive hypothetical hypocrites can have it all along with over populated ignorance; tribulating to tribute tribulation towards the intolerable tramps that have not traveled the distance to obtain a solar power trip... 12 steps per step; take a moment to reflect and unflex the anger expression into depression, drown in remorse and acknowledge King is The Door that somersaults down The Corridor; The “Flutterbye/Lighshed” Lullaby/The Great Escape, a tunnel vision of kaleidoscopic memories, in mid collection i Xemorize the recurse: Xhe Xnly Xne Xperience.
In all Realityester is illusion infusion... in each thick vein are scars waiting to be bled by a beast that bleeds blood of Vzalchemy; i rejuvenate my hate into a heart ship wreck; pain that aches the grounds of into a quake of ground breaking authentication of fabrication, exaggerated with overwhelming explanation of experience exercises the mental matter into musculpture mass that can be easily manipulated by existence, the flood of my blood encompasses a vacant ark. Xemotional Xemories; a mental impression of an infantile beast that was meant to be King but instead sailed a ship of hardwreck/heartwreck into a land of lost slaves prematurely ejaculated with regurgitation, mind became what it ate; infantile beast to premature slave... Blind by darkness: ENDARKENMENT, i refuse to let go of my deepest darkest depressing roots that have grown out of shape into a shallow grave... A filthy, unrighteous, proud, pathetic; King of Pain keeps a promise to always be Pirate before byproduct of false advertised reality; under the influence of ignorance is no longer an option due to being detoxified; incompletely miserable... a word is worthless if not kept in The Vault Metatheorism... They give me all that i crave to creHate... Barricaded by hate and defluenced by amusement; there must be answers to the answers.. Mind the business of a Ventrepreneur, look down on a Ventertainer and watch VzalXENy evolve into a mind blowing venture that will leave it all behind; New and Improved foundated by a Pirate; i Chapter all that i have captured, i imprison slaves within a dungeon of Judgment. When in mid roam each and every head will be detached by overgrown hands, i do not at all have blood of another upon my filthy own; clean slated i reap what i sow; with a sleight of hand i gesture an unkind beckon; cross the LINE that has already been double crossed more than once by competitionless bate; an extravaganzapalooza of execution...
I normally do not get out of my characteristic charms of biting my tongue, but the facial mask that hides the beast has deteriorated due to an overwhelming amount of sulfur... I suffer no more; i am able to ROAR with silence; ever mourn... If a slave is not ventertained with the way i touch myself indecently with expressing the darkest, deepest corners of my true emotion and can not appreciate the blood of a beast, then i highly suggest with recommendation get off the page that has prying eyes apprehended. i can not relate to those that will not relate to my past experience, read between the lines and over look New Found Arrogance; i am not afraid of a slave that lacks the ability to accept it for what it is NOW. My heart can HATE more than an enslaved mind can possibly try and think to imaginate... By far is this a threat, i warn no slave... Freewill to ignore KING with ignorance, stubborn in perdition; burn and i will be delighted with each frantic spasm attack. I will not place my filthy hands upon a slave to a fractured society... This is the voice that refuses to speak towards ignorance; a weak quality to obtain, patriotically i have my rights: FEARDOM to speak with impediment, FEARDOM, to press charges with an electrifying violent reaction, FEARDOM to be religious; lack thereof... I AM; not bound by a creator with a seven day limit for existence is endless “IN OMNI OMEGA I EXIST” …have no fear; for slaves have created... Collection of Numerical Illusion only to buy the breath they breathe freely suffocating selfishly by forced fornication and they imply TRUST... I laugh when slaves to society expect to be saved when they are insanely enslaved by payment; in filthy hands an over due debt has yet to be collected; in the form of one knee, i expect respect. King can not and will not stay in the shadows for much longer when in fact the velocity of emotionless in syn xight travels at a much faster rate in plain sight than the average fraction of a thought; the darkness from within will bring The Epic Shade; artificially processing Xending. King B. Rite - The Poet/Psycopath