Here: Deep Poetic

Not a glutton so I know when I don't need anymore
None of that.
I'm good, I got it all inside.
Creativity is the fire
Dose on that all night
With a fever of ninety-nine degrees on my wall
And oiled brushes staining canvas like lovers' sheets
Method is my style
Control cock blocks my flow
And I'm intent on getting what's mine

Hanging on is a means to an end
Activates self-destruction
Go-on. Turn a blind eye
Only thing I'm gonna leave is:
'Wondering why'
I know it hurts them
To see me in this state
Where chaos and order make love day and night
In Exodus they all excuse themselves
Cutting losses
Taking comfort in hindsight

There's paradox in tragedy
They bathe in blood sweat and tears cuz I'm
Succeeding in pushing every last one outta my life.
Take the left AND the right just leave without a fight.
Some of em try and stay.
Weathering sub-tropic storms
That surround my life
Rewarded pain as a prize when they come along for the ride
I paint Gilligan's Island for 'em
Start dolling out refunds in no time

Hanging on is a means to an end
Activates self-destruction
Go-on. Turn a blind eye
Only thing I leave you is
Wondering why
I know it hurts
To see me in this state
Where chaos and order make love day and night
So follow as
They all excuse themselves
Cutting losses
Taking comfort in hindsight

But you.
You are still here.
Long after the linseed and oil have dried
And I used all the ashes to texturize
Beauty from the fury that destroyed
Without subsitance to keep itself alive.
Here. Reading braille when I'm blind.
You let me struggle, fail and compliment my life
Making love in copulas that bind
Got me wanting to stick around
Maybe, this time