King_B_Rite

"THINK; Know Truth, WRITE: Know Truth, READ; Know Truth" imagined, theorized, partly written, and typed by: King B. Rite - The Poet/Psycopath​ Pxalm VIII: Voice Inside, Insane, Inhale J'tu Orion Zathaniel R. - The Depicter/Narrator



"THINK; Know Truth, WRITE: Know Truth, READ; Know Truth" imagined, theorized, partly written, and typed by: King B. Rite - The Poet/Psycopath​

Pxalm VIII: Voice Inside, Insane, Inhale
J'tu Orion Zathaniel R. - The Depicter/Narrator

Short, bitter, sweet are teeth of a beast that taste VISTORY... In a furnace of Hail fire, i watch how my eyes light up The Corridor from the darkest, deepest corners of my mind... Far from being blind i travel at the velocity of in syn xight... i am mentally burning within sanity, craving with a craze, i claim insanity in a court full of cowards that can not tell the difference from a palace to an asylum... A stadium; moreless i act... as if; i’m possesed... perfectly incompletely miserable to be aware of a voice that has a mind of its own; its hard to describe the way it argues with the way i agree with all that it speaks... As if it was my own choice to choose; i listen as if i am obligated to the suggestions it give... i take full credit and responsibility and establish it as mine; a soul to keep, is a soul to reap, is a soul to take, is a soul to speak... i reap the benefits of what is in my mind. I have already experienced “The Death of Me” so i have nothing else to gain out of existence... I owe nothing to no other as a matter of fact i have much more to Pirate as i take each and every breath for advantage and inhale my ghost... sadistically sad, the developmental disorder characterized by King is abnormal by social behavior; failure to understand reality and cope with lost high hope is a way to be in a elongated boat; some what of a ship, a vacant ark...perhaps a yacht that is lost at sea... shoved in a glass of public intoxication; bottled along with a message that was written with precise precision; with an incision i CUT out the guts of every individual that has ever tried to make a mockery of my repulsive reputation... In mid laughter i slaughter the ones who forgot to sneeze... Highly allergic to ignorance i react with a release of nasal congestion; repeatedly... No slave dares to excuse King from the table, due to the way the beast turns inside out from within.

open waters do not wave goodbye... With the velocity of existence they slap the surface of facial expressions into Red territory; i mark my own word upon the faces that do not accept it for what it is... I am adhesive to my implications... No need acceptance from those that can not even confront an inconsiderable confession due to lack of confidence; they know not if they will come out alive... however it is metaphor’d... i sail my heartwreck/hardwreck down a stream of unforgotten memories that seem as if they were dreams that realistically never took place; prime definition of Xemory. a flood of blood flows unfortunately... I can only describe a few details at each moment left; with each breath, i catch another mouth full of insects that try to scurry away from my disgusted tongue, so far, so good, so close, so bad... i have left my print upon a collection of dirt compacted upon the grounds, i see an impression made by a beast... I have created a crater of hate for hypocrites... Only so they can feel right at heart; as if they were housed in their own environmental domestic jurisdiction of imprisonment... With as much common sense courtesy, i take moments out of my pointless existence only to visit all hypocrites with a conjugal appointment... Wish they may, wish they might, wish they will, wish they way… Upon my lap, i pay attention to the dance; frantically in fancy they skip to the beat of my flame, in the shape of a blade... The tip leaves a burn, a transmitted, transaction of kings ejaculation can feel like an adrenaline rush. I punch below the gut... Another top notch upon my belt is last in line and first to burn as i insert the point of view of a buckle within its hallowness. No laughing matter... Under a big top hat that crowns my upside down frown; silver grin, i suspect... Revenge to be successful. For greater than mass can attack with a force so thick... The math does add, energy equals mass times the velocity of light squared... An explosion of excellence in one hand is a clinch away from a countdown... To the ground, unconscious; TOTAL Knock Out... With a hair line fracture to the cranium due to the pressure from within the mindless perception of over exaggerated fabricated analogies that concept the beginning of a undisputed Champion “RING ME KING” …Out the xodaraPandora box, I spring my neck in a sway of arrogance... - King B. Rite - The Poet/Psycopath

Comments2

  • Augustus

    Wildly entertaining.

  • Tony36

    Love it



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