So, just a bit of explaining beforehand… At the time I wrote this I was making the trip to and from Florida every couple weeks to assist my Dad after he had an amputation. I was so bored with the trip that I wasn’t wanting to listen to music or podcasts anymore. I used to do music and I try to bust out a little freestyle everyday just to stay sharp even focusing more on being a writer. It still seemed like a valid exercise to continue practicing. Anyway… on this particular trip I decided to freestyle and write it down (talk to text rather), and I ended up busting out stuff the rest of that journey. This is several hours of poetic nonsense. 

Driving To FL Freestyle:

Let me state it.

For the record unofficially I hate it.
I struggle to explain it.

Why is it seemingly so increasingly impossible to contain it?

I am talking about this “creative” quality embedded within my internal essence.

My aura is suffering as a sacrifice, a digital death wish, it is virtually bleeding & beheaded.

Amputation, reoccurring Armageddon, an advanced Apocalypse inside.

Emotional eclipse erased my eyes entirely, mentally blind in my 3rd eye, & that is why I etched enchanted inscriptions into my cerebellum.

My mediocre is like a 10 espresso mocha, with some coca, & 9 gallons of 5 hour energy drinks, no cup big enough so I chug an entire hot tub, filled to the brim…

once again, I ask forgiveness for my sins.

Amen.

Somebody tell ‘em. God granted the genetic gift of the creative gene. Why me? See, I Inherited the amazing grace of this forsaken attribute.

Words turn into clouds because they fly over heads, like handing a book without brail to a blind person & expecting it to be read, it’s like they’re deaf & I’m wasting breath, grab the remote & press… Mute…

but only after you aim it at me instead of the the TV.
The storm is brewing inside of me, I t’s like a hundred hurricanes hitting at once, ripping stuff apart violently, & that’s the struggle that swallows my sanity when I’ve got the vision but I can’t make them see.

I guess it defies the simple temple surrounding & suffocating the typical individual, something is lost in translation it has made my messages incomprehensible, like an encrypted hieroglyphic to be specific, or is it…

Superfragalisticespalodochious? Sorry, I have to stop for a bit. I can’t believe I spelled that word correct the first time I wrote it. For real… Ok, back to the deal…

Or is it? My superficial… No. Perhaps it is artificial? Either way it doesn’t matter consider this the cancellation of my clarification since no matter what comes before, it always ends with intelligence.

Where was I going with all of this?

Bah humbug! I hate it when that happens. I forgot where I was going with it. Let me pause perfectly as if it were to find, this strange situation invented by my infinite imagination which replicates a poltergeist plaguing my pitiful possessed mind.
Paused like being trapped in a never ending drive thru line. Or perhaps one more time. How about a stop sign hidden behind a stop sign? Positioned so you move a few inches at a time.

Plus an entire SWAT team aiming on you fully prepared, with that double dog dare. like “Go on. Commit that crime”.

Something it once was but now it is all gone. I find it liberating when I witness brilliance fade away into ashes when an idea vanishes like a flayed Minion.

Mr. Cleo in the house, don’t even let them words escape your mouth, because I already know what is on your mind meaning I know what you are thinking despite my terms of service style of mind reading. My minds bleeding. Just at the thought of someone actually reading.

This. This text based wreckage of words. It’s absurd.
This… My properly punctuated apologies. Sincerely. It isn’t something I do intentionally.

It is comparable to an internal animal outcast by society, caged within me, exiled existence a causality of creative incompatibility.

Like a life sentence when every fraction of a sentence, is mathematically incorrect, but what did you expect?

Exactly! English was always my best subject!

Nah bumhug? You see what I did there? I reversed it.

Even if I had prewritten & rehearsed it, then forcefully forgot it, it would still redefine the definition of perfect.

I’m worthless.

Depression is like quick sand & I am drowning in a sea of sandy salty water. Wait. Or was it a sea of sorrows? Doomed to a destiny of tormenting myself with expired sorrows & misplaced promises of tomorrow.

No, scratch that, sorry I had a flashback.

Turn that time machine off & make an exit from 2011. Back then… When… I was just exceptionally excellent, but a fatal flatline fantasy.

Well, at least emotionally.

Mentally trapped inside a matchbox, hot glued & taped to a turmoil shaped Tarantula.

Or is it a Spatula?

Who cares? Either way. That Tarantula spatula fell in a turtle shell. See, I just tried to sabotage myself, but it’s like a suicide note returned to the sender in the mail.

Because that silly, stinky, slinky riding, randomly sticky, stupid turtle shell. Subconsciously infiltrated my subliminal creative core. Bypassed the security system, & picked the 309 various locks on my mind’s door.

I’m amazed, enraged, no way anyone could still be reading this trash engaged. I briefly imagine this onslaught of words piled up perfectly organized within a mass grave.

Also, I admit it even though this taunting turtle shell tortures me, relentlessly, like a rerun of a rebooted revamped remixed retail of a tell tale.

Or is it tale tell? Maybe tail tail? I should perhaps take it to the “Google”. You know. The modern monstrosity molded  & melted into a teaspoon full of a mirrored mimic of a tribunal?

I smell tuna fish. Oh wait. How dare I forget that sinister stench, a rendition of a reality mixed with ramen noodles & just a pinch of the Grinch.

Yes. The one who stole Christmas but don’t distract me from this casserole of chaotic calamity combined with a clamoring rambling Nicholas Cage morphine fever dream. I got serious business to address. I confess.

You think this is a mess? Is that your final answer? Or just your first guess?

Wait! Don’t answer that. Let’s make it our special secret unless. Together we decide to unlock it, with the sacred pinky promise. If anyone actually read this I anticipate you are dizzy, from my spinning shards of verbal vomit.

Once again though. This is my problem, the fuel for my desire to drag my determination into demented duck dynasty created cage, housing different denominations of doom, damnation, & depraved divorcées from LA. Cataloged but I just erased/moved that dot a couples of spaces a few different ways.

Why? So, that they will forever he lost & misplaced! Because I just dissolved the decimal in the Dewey decimal system! You can’t see me doing the “gun hand” symbol so I described it just to provide the proper visual.

All so that I could tell you that you’re no match for my masterpiece missiles. Burn. Sizzle. Snap. Crackle. Pop.

Your rice be crispy. Surely there is no chance that any creature in creation is s reading this ignorance impregnated by my bliss. This aborted abomination, a beautiful broken fragmentation experimentation with a fractured kaleidoscope creation. Seriously, there’s no chance of salvation, no redemption or recalibration.

This tangled trap of thundering taco toots is the total sum of a twisted equation, a creepy combination. A theory sure to have you salivating. Imagine with me for a second. Close your eyes. Keep waiting. Let me ever so slowly build the anticipation. Ok. I’m tired of writing this, surely you are tired of waiting for the escalation.

Ok. Here we go. Are you picturing this stuff clearly? Test run. Honeybun, happy meal, hamburgers duct taped to the ceiling.

Did it work? If not, just read this whole thing again to finish off your remaining brain cells. You’ll know that method worked if you choose the option “tail tails”.

Remember that? Ok, here it is.

The reason behind this little reprieve from my repository of shattered, stupid boring stories. My wasted wonderland of wise words wickedly Willy wonka & his factory (read that as fact… orie. Like Oreos without the O’s). Anyway, I really feel like I’ve let you down with this oddity of an imagined situation.

I literally spent all this time building to this lame creation, hoping the anticipation proudly produced into the preposterous presentation would distract from the impending devastation of this reta…. Rhetorical, red rover, frustration crustacean creation oozing out of my imagination.

Ugh! Here it is. It is a Nikki Minaj a Trois. That’s a threesome in case you forgot. Who is involved? Glad you asked, it was in reference to rhymes that have passed. Remember that aborted abomination statement with all its greatness? Well now you meet the parents who hooked up in that turtle shell’s mother’s basement.

Here’s the latest news from the crime scene. This theeesome it was between.

The abominable snowman, Swiss Miss, and Satan, wait!? Why are you still picturing it you fiend?

Simon shouldn’t have to say “stop” with something so freaky & creepy. Hey, don’t blame your perversions on me. I just gave you the outline, you actually control the images you see. 

Anyway, back to the lesson, this is my conclusion, expressively exceeding what you were expecting, now wait for just a second while we establish a connection to my confession…

Dialing it up… Waiting… Waiting… Waiting… Waiting… Waiting… Waiting… Waiting… Waiting… Dial up - successful!

I know these words are like virginity at the rate they’re being lost, & I did that by design, regardless of if you & Mr. Ripley can believe it or not. The motivation behind my verbal blasphemy of the English language?

To see if anyone on this planet would try to tame the beast subliminally existing entirely inside this extinction event of a speech. Because the true revelation was this…

You remember the turtle shell story that felt like a random ramble of an idiot? Before I finished writing the sentence I had already manipulated it.

That’s my problem. Even when they shouldn’t matter I can’t not solve them.

Wasted withering away & there is a limited supply, my credit sucks, so I can’t borrow. It drives me crazy because no one is promised tomorrow.

Yet most of us spend every second at a job suffering internally slowing smothering, screaming in silence, self pity & sorrow.

So, that turtle shell that seemed so worthless, pointless, & dumb. Details not needed, I know you know the one.

So, I will be the first to admit I am amazed at how that turtle was able to sneak in. Finally here is the end of my ravaged reasoning process. Because as soon as the turtle shell entered my vicinity magically it transformed. Like a caterpillar to a butterfly it beautifully changed form. & this pointless, stupid, subject immediately transitions into an amazing, breathtaking, heartbreaking, metaphor.

It emerged unscathed & indescribable emotional bliss that’s endless. This… Metamorphosis now continues on & tailspins & now once again it transitions into another visual abstract mental image from within. The tailspins just spin again & again. Then… Transition again.

Leaving cluttered chaos in its wake, similar to a territory torn apart by the heart of a thousand tornados tossed into box, locked, & left in the dark.

Yet again. My mind makes another mystery leaving me miles from the topic where I’m supposed to be. Murdering me mentally - Mysterious misery. Sail! Blame it on my ADD. Back to synthetic complexity.

Umm. Extract my existence from this madness wrapped in mental massacre in a basket & blended with the lost minds of 39 psychopathics combined & buried in a casket - In Alaska!

Now shhhh. Silently let it seep into a synthetic secret, an optical illusion emitting exhaustion & its constant. I’ve lost it.

Once again where was I going with this? Just make it sound fancy & hopefully no one will notice… as a myth transforms into a formula. It’s taking the form of an ancient intelligence snuffed out by a looming legacy of a doomed destiny. Sacrificed by an image violently shredded by the gift that was abandoned within me.

The attribute that I inherited directly from God it seems. The curse of constantly creating chaotic concoctions & conversations sensationally.

Essentially, I take a single, simple, silent symphony. Rearrange, remodel, plus the application of reorganization - recalibration. Like an addiction to my mind’s miscellaneous constantly shuffling playlist.

Each syllable replaces the liquid when it is raining. Then I’m left with something too sloppy to be a statement.

It just expands, explodes & evolves into a creative casualty. Violently.

So suddenly & yet suspenseful. It creates of this simplistic concept that these words are wasted no one but me would have the conviction to commit to.

The unintentionally adopted paradoxical essence of “Pandora’s Box” combined with the blissful irony that can only be attached stream of strange scenarios I just unlocked.

& unleashed. The static scenario I referenced is a cacophony of conundrums certain to confuse even the most elite of intellectual entities.

Now that the dramatic intensity has been properly calibrated we can properly present this purgatory-paradox-prison that resembles the mutation of a mutilated Phantom Zone/Ground Hog’s Day combination.

Laced with frustrations plus an abyss filled void packed with screaming whispers which endlessly radiates echos of fragmented failures, forgotten futures, & an infinite expansion of a haunted history, my murdered memories, another mystery of madness, all etched into an epitaph. The tragic transformation of a tragedy evolving into a comedy. Laugh.

As fhe facade cracks. And I’m left with the unidentifiable remains, I can’t explain what it was all supposed to be. Nothing more now, just an idea’s eulogy.