embodying pure emanations of nature
biting the white hot blade of love
illuminating exit holes in the death-cycle
for every action not-taken there exists a concrescing birth-orgasm
my mind rejects your dogma like viral-infection
the drama is nice but what about that climax?
(there's no such thing as too much lubrication*)
what are the limitations really?
you think i don't know how to engineer the street-hustla-turned-rapper lifestyle?
this is a global joint.
*there will always be friction